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 Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 12:25 pm
~{ Through Forest Deep }~
= Malhyanth's Journal of Stonecrestians =
> Malhyanth's Quest Characters <Name | Race | Tribe | LinkSunfur | Mouse | Woodhaven | [x]
Marty Black-cap | Songbird | Fleuve | [x]
Mal | Badger | Fleuve | [x]
Liadain | Otter | Fleuve | [x]
Jack D | Lab Rat | Horde | [x]
Schrödinger | Maine Coon Cat | Horde | [x]
Fiwteen-Fou'tee | Hairless Rabbit | Horde | [x]
Sero | Lab Mouse (CNOcno) | Horde | [x]
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Posted: Thu Feb 17, 2011 12:42 pm
Current Stats Basic StatsBody : 2 | Mind : 6 | Soul : 8
Bonuses :
Deft Words
Your mind draws from the power of the wood, imbibing you with the strength to end battles with a single word.
+1 to mind, -1 to body.Body : Akin to strength and constitution
Mind : Akin to intelligence and wisdom
Soul : Akin to charisma and moxyBattle StatsHP : 4 | MP : 12 | SP : 16
Base Attack : 1 | Base Magic : 3HP represent your 'health' in battle and decreases with each 'hit'.
MP is the total mana you have when casting spells, and decreases with each spell.
SP can be used to buy important skills in preparation for battle.
Base stats are how much damage you do with each successful hit of either 'attack' or 'spell'. Name : Sunfur
Gender : Male
Age : Adult
Race : Mouse
Tribe : Woodhaven
Personality Keyword : Careful
Sunfur has always been a tentative creature, from birth to inevitable death. He never takes risks, and will never purposefully put himself in danger, though sometimes, danger seems to seek out Sunfur, and no matter what he does, he finds himself in situations that require a quick mind, or at least a strong paw. Here, he somewhat fails. He's a very meek creature, afraid of his own shadow, and definitely afraid of creatures bigger then himself, even some that are smaller!
History :
Born and raised in Woodhaven, the story of Sunfur isn't really all that interesting. He is a stay-at-home kind of mouse, and prefers his own, quiet company to the excess of others; partying, social drinking and general company doesn't seem to suit this mouse, and never has. As he grew, he was considered a bit of a geeky child, devoting himself to his books, learning skills in spell-craft, as well as what other's would consider quite mundane; needle-point, bug-keeping and flower arranging.
A past that would, for all intents and purposes, lead to a pretty quiet individual somehow also bred within Sunfur a fear of the world. He cries in fear at shadows, and constantly fears dropping dead from some strange and new disease. As a child, he found a pebble, and without his 'Lucky Stone', Sunfur is at a bit of a loss within the realms of company. The pebble is something he fiddles with when nervous, and to lose it is like to lose a child in the eyes of Sunfur. His bug-keeping, however, has got him a bit of a reputation, breeding excellent specimens that act as pets, guards or even performers. Bug-keeping seems to be the only thing he isn't scared of getting dirty for! Inventory  Sparks is Sunfur's personal slave light-bulb, lighting up his Bug-Breeding headquarters, and greeting potential buyers with his cute demeanour and impressive light-show. A potion that Sunfur uses to help catch the trickier of the bugs!RP Log for Sunfur Link | Name | Type | Characters | Players | Progress[x] | Stop Being A Worry-wart! | PRP | Haliford | Aurrie | In Progress
[x] | Sunfur's Bug Trade Stop | ORP | Various | Various | Always Open
[x] | Liel's Bag Creatures | CYOA - Shop Run | Various/Bag Creatures | Various/Keppit | In Progress
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Posted: Mon Feb 21, 2011 11:19 am
Current Stats Basic StatsBody : 3 | Mind : 5 | Soul : 6
Bonuses :
Golden Pockets
You've skill points to spare and a life of leisure has seen you well off and well humored.
+1 to soul, -1 to body.Body : Akin to strength and constitution
Mind : Akin to intelligence and wisdom
Soul : Akin to charisma and moxyBattle StatsHP : 6 | MP : 10 | SP : 12
Base Attack : 1 | Base Magic : 2HP represent your 'health' in battle and decreases with each 'hit'.
MP is the total mana you have when casting spells, and decreases with each spell.
SP can be used to buy important skills in preparation for battle.
Base stats are how much damage you do with each successful hit of either 'attack' or 'spell'. Name : Marty Black-cap
Gender : Male
Age : Chick
Race : Black-capped Chickadee
Tribe : Fleuve
Eventual Outfit :
> Rough, slightly beat up goggles that once belonged to his father.
> A dark brown carry-sack, where he stores the letters and parcels he delivers.
> A utility belt, where he keeps a beat up old compass, a map to home, and some other little items that he believes are of use.
> A thick scarf to keep off the cold, in a dark blueish-grey colour with black stripes. On one of the ends, stitched in rather haphazardly, is a little cross-stitch patch in the shape of butterfly, that was given to him by his little mouse friend.
Personality Keyword : Aloof
Marty is a very strange little individual. If he doesn't know you, he can go one of two ways; he'll either over act, and be very aggressive and overbearing to try and get you to leave him alone, or he will be completely ignorant of your existence, or at least pretend to be. He is a very prideful little beast, and though he acts like the big song-bird of the forest, he is actually a bit of a wimp. He is easily provoked into crying over trivial matters, and adopts this aloof air to try and combat that. His ambition to be the best post-bird in Mossflower and Stonecrest has led him to be very amicable to people with a proposition of work, but beyond that, he is a hard nut to crack.
History :
Life for the young can be wickedly cruel, and at times, hard as well, and when you go through your first few weeks of life with a sprained wing, as a bird, that is twice as wicked and twice and hard as anything you can ever imagine happening in your life ever again! Such was the manner of Marty. He couldn't help being melodramatic. He was old enough to remember his Chickadee family, and the way they had flown as one. He was old enough to remember multitudes of aunts, uncles, grannies, granfas and siblings. He knew, full well, that they had all left him, all alone in this big wide world!
The little Chickadee remembered clearly his father's words.
"You, son, are the swiftest of my chicks, and you will go far in life! When you are fledged truly, and your siblings flown the nest, I want you to come with me and your ma, son, to Fleuve! There, we will be famous!"
His father had had that same dramatic air, that same aloof, mightier-than-thou attitude that Marty had always admired. His father was a speedy flier, and the young chick had marvelled as he chased gnats about the canopy of Mossflower. His father had had vision, and that same, big-dream attitude had passed to his little son, and they had concocted their very own plan of action for becoming famous. They knew they could do it, because their nature was that failure was no option. Chickadees are renowned for bit attitudes, and between them, Marty and his father possibly had the biggest!
The little Chickadee's dreams had been dashed though, that night. He sat alone in the orphanage, watching others play as his bandaged and splinted wing healed, and waited for the time his father would just appear in the sky above the canopy of trees, and motion him to follow. His little crest fell every evening, when no such immense occasion occurred, and he would go to bed saddened and lonely. Other orphans would offer him a game, but the tiny little Chickadee would shake his and motion out the window,
"He's coming! I know today he will come!"
For weeks this continued, until one day, Marty didn't get up to look out the window. The weight of his loneliness finally hit him, the grief of what had happened. As a large tear rolled from shining eyes, the little Black-cap looked to the window, with the golden shaft of light pouring through. It was as though the light was there on purpose, and revealed on the floor was a map of Stonecrest! Scampering towards it, and taking it up gingerly, Marty spread it wide, pointing with quiet mutterings to their location. It was a map that one of the raccoons had probably stolen to draw a treasure map on, but much of the map was still visible beneath the charcoal lines and crosses. Using his feathers, the little Black-cap brushed away some of the excess charcoal, and saw better the image as a whole.
Fleuve.
It wasn't far from here, and it would allow the little Chickadee to do as his father had wanted, that elaborate dream that had so excited the young bird! The map showed it to be quite a flight, but Marty's face was determined as he plotted the course he would need to take. He knew his wing was healed now, though stiff and uncomfortable, splinted as it was. Zephra had promised to unsplint it soon, but then had gone on a quick wander away to take a little squirrel to her new home. Marty knew that he would need to wait, but he was so excited. His little creamy breast swelled with pride. He do it, and he'd name it for his father's nickname to him; Flit! He had to! Simply had to!
~~~~
The day came, and his wing was finally free!
Zephra had forgotten him for an extra week, in her rehoming of the other orphans, but eventually, she got to Marty, and realised he had to be released of his splint! It was a delicate process, as the feathers beneath were so delicate. Together, they slowly clipped away the bandages, and the splint was removed. Stiff and with slightly damaged feathers, Marty gently moved his wing, looking at it dubiously. Would it allow him to fly? As he tried to flap it, Zephra laid her hands on his shoulders and clucked her tongue, smiling kindly.
"Don't go flapping yet, little one. You have to build its strength again first! You'll only damage it again if you go mad now its free!"
Marty nodded a little sadly, and took himself back off to his bedroom. Under his bedding, wrapped delicately in a forest-green ribbon, with a loop of twine pushed through one corner and a piece of charcoal tied to the twine, Marty's now most valued possession sat, carefully hidden so whoever had claimed it first couldn't take it away. The ribbon was gently teased apart, and the sheaf of bark-roll unwrapped to show the map painted on its insides. Newly etched over the faded greyer lines of the previous dibbun, Marty had traced his own path, his own adventure to Fleuve and the promised life he and his father had plotted. It seemed a long way, and the little Chickadee knew he had to plot his escape from the orphanage well if he was going to get there. Zephra cared for the orphans, sure enough, but she had other ideas compared to the little bird. She meant to house him with a family, and Marty simply couldn't allow that to happen! Now he was fully healed, he would have to avoid her gaze even more acutely as he trained, and gained back his flight. He would have to hide when she looked for little dibbuns to take on her trips to rehome, and be careful to avoid potential adopters that came to the big house.
His determined little scowl increased as he nodded his approval at his own plan. Gingerly wrapping the map back up, Marty looked about himself, to ensure he was alone, as he hid it once more inside his bedding.
~~~~
Training was hard without a mentor to teach him.
Marty knew the basics; how to take off, fly and land, but he had never been taught how to get a wing prepared for flight after an injury. His father had always spoken of being careful NOT to get injured. A bird with a broken wing and the fatal 'shock' was a dead bird, as far as his father had been concerned. Marty scrubbed his eyes thinking of his father. Stretching his wings equally, for both had wasted a little in their non-use, Marty looked about the little glade he had selected for his training. Many of the other orphans wouldn't come this far into the wood surrounding the home. They were fearful of being picked off by predators, but Marty needed space, and he needed silence to think and train.
As he sat in the cool morning air, the dappled light from above painting the scene green and gold, the little Chickadee contemplated his predicament. He needed to strengthen himself, needed to become strong, like father, and only then would he be able to fly so strong and true, even if his wing was a little bent, and his pride a little dented! He started by jogging about, keeping his wings open, not flapping when he gained a little lift, just letting the air fill his wings. It was harder then he had imagined, holding his wings out at such right angles from his body! A slow ache crept through his joints and particularly in the wing with the newly healed sprain! Marty narrowed his eyes and ignored the ache, continuing to run around the little clearing, till he was breathing hard and his wings were drooping from the effort. Sitting down, sounds filtered through from the orphanage. Zephra was rounding up kids! Clearly, she felt the need to go 'peddling her wares' again, and Marty was not about to get caught up in all that! Picking himself up with a bit of effort, the little bird darted behind some rocks, and hid as the rabbit traipsed through, calling out names one by one, and then continued on, back towards the orphanage.
Marty sat with his back against the rock and wiped his brow with his feathers. That was too close for comfort! He'd need to pay better attention to what was going on around him if she was going to carry out his mission of getting away to Fleuve a free-bird!!
~~~~
As the days passed of his training, Marty found a little follower. The little mouse stayed close to Marty's side, watching him with wide eyes as he trained and got ready for the big journey. He had confided in her, not entirely understanding why, the aims of his mission, the reasons, and why he had to get away from the orphanage. She had understood, in her own, quiet way, and had agreed to aid Marty by being a lookout. He had wished to help her to Fleuve too, but the danger was too great for him to risk her being lost whilst he flew above, and for anything to happen to her, he would be devastated. So much, like him, had happened to her already in her short life! It wasn't fair.
As he ran in his circles, the little mouse sitting on the rock a few weeks before he had hid behind to avoid Zephra, she hummed gently, and watched with contented pride as he flew a few inches above the ground when a gust of wind filled his wings. From her position, she would often call to him to flap, just a little. Marty was still anxious of flapping, and the little mouse said she would take a look at his wing. As he came close, she slid down from the rock and laid out her hands for him to put the wing on. He did so, turning his face away so as not to see what she did, in case it hurt. Her gentle hands poked and pulled out the pinion, feeling the tug on it from the muscles, and smiled at him, petting the wing. Marty turned and opened one large burgandy eye at her.
"Try to fly, little Marty! I think it is fine!"
Marty gulped and nodded, and took his wing back, looking at it dubiously. The little mouse laid a paw on his shoulder with a broad grin.
"You can do it, Marty!"
The little Chickadee puffed out his chest, nodding. Sure he could! He was big and strong now, and his mouse friend had said it was all ok! He would try!
Taking his place, he started to run, wings spread, but this time, every time he got some air between his toes and the ground, he would flap, apprehensively at first, but as no pain shot through his wing, he flapped harder, face a determined frown as round and round he went, flapping his wings. The mouse cheered from her spot back on the rock, clapping her hands. It was the push the little songbird needed, and when a particularly strong gust came through, the Chickadee flapped hard and flapped true, and suddenly, he was aloft! He cried out in joy, and did a few laps of the glade as the little mouse wooped and cheered, standing on her rock and punching the air as the little bird flew round and round!
Oh how good it felt to be back in the air! His sprained wing seemed to not affect him at all, though he could feel it tiring quicker then the other, so he still had some way to be back to full power, but he didn't care! He was flying, and that meant he could take his journey! Landing next to the little mouse, they hugged, and the mouse scrubbed at the songbird's head, making his crest stick up in odd places.
"I knew you could do it!" She said in a sing-song voice, dancing on the spot, holding his wing-feathers and dancing round and round with Marty. The little Chickadee giggled and danced too, her excitement infectious. The pair played for a little while, tag and catch, with Marty taking air as much as he could to continue to strengthen his wings. As dinner was called, the two walked back to the orphanage together, the mouse holding some of Marty's wing feathers, as though holding hands with another.
~~~~
The day had come to go, and Marty couldn't find the little mouse who had helped him so. Her bed was empty when he woke, and many of her things were gone. He searched high and low for her, and when asking others, found out she had gone with Zephra that morning. The little Chickadee's crest fell, his excitement dissipated. His little friend... gone, just as he was about to go!
Gathering his meagre possessions; the map and charcoal piece, and a small quilt-patch that his mouse friend had made when cross-stitching one day, Marty was ready. He was stood within his little glade, looking back at the stump-based home he had known for so long. His heart hurt, not knowing what had become of his little mouse friend, but he knew her face, knew her eyes, and her voice, and he would seek her out, once he was set up in Fleuve. It was always going to come to this, he knew, but he had hoped she could have seen him off before she was taken. He had wanted her to know he would wait to see her again! The little songbird wiped his eyes and set his beak in a determined scowl. He would still find her! One day, they would be friends again, and play together!
Spreading his wings, and flapping as a gust came hurtling through the trees, smelling of freedom and potential, the little Chickadee took to the air. He flitted about, around the stump house, where the last few orphans waved to him, Marty, with his map clasped tightly in his claws. He waved back with his wing, dipping a little in his flight, before turning off, and following the memorised directions, to get to Fleuve, and the promise he had made his father.
"One day, da, we're going to be the bestest Postal Service ever in Mossflower and Stonecrest, aren't we?!"
"Of course we are son! Animals will come from miles around just to have us deliver their letters! We will be famous son, famous!"
"I promise I'll learn to fly really well, da! So's I can help you out and make you proud!"
"You already do, son! You already do!" Inventory  A potion that turns Marty invisible - really useful when traversing those more... dangerous of neighbourhoods!RP Log for Marty Link | Name | Type | Characters | Players | Progress[x] | Liel's Bag Creatures | CYOA - Shop Run | Various/Bag Creatures | Various/Keppit | In Progress
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Posted: Thu Mar 17, 2011 10:37 am
--Cert Here-- Current Stats Basic StatsBody : 5 | Mind : 6 | Soul : 7
Bonuses :
Golden Words
You've skill points to spare and a life of leisure has seen you well off and well humored.
+1 to soul, -1 to body.Body : Akin to strength and constitution
Mind : Akin to intelligence and wisdom
Soul : Akin to charisma and moxyBattle StatsHP : 10 | MP : 12 | SP : 14
Base Attack : 2 | Base Magic : 3HP represent your 'health' in battle and decreases with each 'hit'.
MP is the total mana you have when casting spells, and decreases with each spell.
SP can be used to buy important skills in preparation for battle.
Base stats are how much damage you do with each successful hit of either 'attack' or 'spell'. Name : Mal
Gender : Male
Age : Adult
Race : Badger
Tribe : Fleuve
Eventual Outfit :
> Deep green patterned cloak that is ragged at the end from being slightly too long, and being on many adventures with the old badger.
> Metal bracers on his wrists and ankles, delicately patterned with filigree.
> A jade-stone pendant about his neck, with more delicate filigree patterns holding the stone in place.
> Beads and ribbons strewn through his mane and beard.
Personality Keyword : Imaginative.
Mal is a pretty quiet, reserved Badger, calm and loving with dibbuns, and is often seen as a teacher or career for dibbuns that either have lost their family, or need some manners taught to them! His stories are unlimited, and he likes nothing more then to sit by the flowing river and weave his tales of Mossflower and Stonecrest. He is not, however, a war-faring beast, and it is said that Mal has never possessed the ability to link into the bloodrage Badgers are supposed to be renowned for.
History :
Mal's history is barely known, and when asked for stories of his own life, will create some imaginative tale of how he came from far seas to Stonecrest to spread his tales. The truth, however, is closer to the fact he was born somewhere within Mossflower, to a future Badgerlord and Badgermum, only to be abandoned early in life when it was realised he would never be able to be of use to the Badgerlord name, He has, since, travelled to seek a place that would accept his peaceful nature, and a base of operations for adventures to be able to use in his future tales.
Apart from weaving the spell of words, Mal is a rigorous explorer, and loves to travel afield, and if the offer is ever posed to him, he is always willing to go along for a trip! On one of his journeys as a young Badger, he came across Jukka the Otter. They became instant friends, after Jukka saved the life, or so he elaborates in the story, of Mal. Mal found himself, on one stroll about Mossflower and Stonecrest, surrounded by river-rats that were aiming to steal his gear. The badger, being kind of heart and unable to defend himself well, was slowly drawing close to the river's edge as the rats threatened him, until, all of a sudden, a streak of brown came shooting to his aid. Jukka beat off the rats, leaving a very impressed and indebted Mal to weave tales of his new friend to all who would listen. RP Log for Mal Link | Name | Type | Characters | Players | Progress-----
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