Post by mikhael on May 15, 2008 18:45:55 GMT -5
Name: Mikhael (Mee-kail)
Gender: Male
Age: 37 years
Species: Ferret
Occupation: Assassin when it suits him\Thief\Serial Killer
Physical Appearance:
Body: For a ferret, he is short, but not by enough to make him look odd, just enough to make him a little different. Mikhael is often referred to as ‘chunky’ by those that have actually seen him, but this is not fat as most believe. The muscles under his long, silky fur so dark a shade of brown that it is almost black are huge for an animal of his size. His legs, arms, and entire abdomen would bulge with the muscles, was his fur not so long as to hide it and make it seem that he has simply spent to much time at the dinner table.
Eyes: Shining like black pearls, his eyes are always moving, flicking here and there, searching, but when they rest on a creature for even an instant, more often than not a chill creeps up their spine and they want nothing more but to be away.
Claws: Mikhael keeps his claws trimmed back so as not to interfere with his usage of knife or bow or other weaponry. This is not to say that they are not dangerous; in a kill attributed to him, Mikhael supposedly killed three armed moles with his bare paws; they were all found with their throats slashed in a sort of jagged way that had to be claws and various claw marks elsewhere, as well as broken limbs. Skeptics say that he disarmed them and then brutally murdered them, no one really wanted to find out though.
Clothes included in possessions.
Possessions:
Weapons
Bow: Mikhael’s most prized possession is sturdy composite bow. He made it from the wood of the finest black birch he had ever seen, leg bones of a wolf that he had killed himself in the mountain passes and the tendons of that same wolf; bound together with a sticky substance made from the hide of a field mouse and a trout bladder. The length of the bow was wrapped in the bark of a yellow birch to protect it from the elements.
-The bowstring was also special; he made it from a horse’s hide. It had taken him almost a full season to find one of these huge noble beasts and longer still to figure out a way to bring it down. Finally he had devised a plan, he followed the horse as best he could, losing it at times, but always finding it again when it stopped; for the most part it simply wandered around and was not so hard to follow. He waited until the horse fell asleep, and then he climbed slowly up to its neck, he felt around a little to be sure to strike at the right place and then plunged a spear he had taken from a rat two days before, deep into the back of the neck. For all its majesty and beauty, the horse lost the use of its body just like any other animal would have. He made exactly 100 strings, hopefully enough extras to last him his lifetime.
-The arrowheads were made of steel in a long thin shape that (though it was originally designed simply to improve the aerodynamics of the arrow), would punch through armor even better than a crossbow bolt. He had originally used the volcanic rock that he found on the slopes of Salamandastron, but when that came in contact with heavy plate armor, it often broke and never punctured.
-The shaft of each arrow was made from both Oak and Ash wood, the Oak, being the heavier, would make up the foot closest to the arrowhead and the rest of the arrow was made of Ash. The two woods were fitted together so expertly that the only way one could tell that the arrow was indeed ‘footed’ as it was termed, was by the darker shade of the wood closer to the arrowhead. This increased the arrow’s aerodynamics.
Saber: A slightly curved saber, taken from a searat he had killed on his one journey to Terramort is his close combat weapon, but for what he calls ‘pleasure killing’ he prefers his knife.
Belt Knife: The long bladed belt knife made of folded steel with the lower half of one edge being serrated for cutting ropes quickly, is his favorite killing weapon, it makes the killing a more intimate activity.
Clothes
Wolf Fur Coat: From the same wolf he had killed to get materials for his bow, Mikhael also made a fine fur coat that he wore all winter. It inspired terror into any who would think of attacking him, or resisting against him. To many animals, it would seem that if he could kill a wolf, he could do just about anything. Truth to tell, it hadn’t been that hard, he had just had a rock roll down on it’s head, the hard part had been getting the wolf where he wanted it; without dying that was. Half of the fur had been bloodied, ripped, and rendered useless, but the rest was more than enough for a ferret.
Regular Clothes: A tunic and breeches of fine cut but durable material that are very worn and travel stained he always throws away his old clothes when he finds some new ones that fit and aren’t too different.
Cloaks: Mikhael owns two cloaks, a dead black one that he wears at when stalking or traveling at night and a gray one of good make that he wears all the other time.
Night Clothes: For most people, ‘night clothes’ is just a different way of saying ‘bed clothes’, for Mikhael it’s slightly different; these are black trousers and shirt that he wears when he doesn’t want to be seen at night, often because he will be killing or at the very least robbing.
Items in Pack
Bedroll: Good for when you don’t want to sleep on the bare ground
Tinderbox: For lighting fires, don’t leave home without it!
Food: Usually residing in his pack is a portion of dried meat, some bread, and often assorted other foods that won’t make a mess of his pack.
Personality:
Cold, hard, cruel, but surprisingly loyal as ferrets come; loyal, but nothing and no one to be loyal to anymore (explained in history). Mikhael is rather friendly to those of like mind, and has enough sense not to ostracize those who could be allies. He has a morbid sense of humor. Usually thinks things through, but is prone to rashness when angered.
Strengths:
Swiftness\Extreme Agility: Pretty self-explanatory, he’s an athletic animal. From scaling walls to running races, he’s your rodent. This is lessened by his latest injury in the end of the bio, but less than you might think.
Archery: Very adept with his composite bow, or any bow for that matter.
Brains: A smart animal, innovative.
Loyalty: As stated in the personality section, Mikhael is more loyal than most Hordebeasts, this gives him the ability to have actual friends and not merely ‘co-workers.’ Although it is not the same for them and thus he has been forced to kill anyone he has worked with to date.
Weaknesses:
Pleasure Killing: He takes the greatest joy out of killing other ‘good’ creatures. He is quite a genius in finding ways to get to his victim or getting out unnoticed by others, but often he will go out of his way while he is either assassinating or robbing someone to kill, or draw out a killing which gives his pursuers time to catch up. He immensely enjoys talking to the animal before he kills it.
Left arm weakness: At this time his left arm is not very useful, he can still use it to shoot his bow, but the wound taken in the end of the history hurts his ability to lift anything heavy and his climbing abilities; for now.
Haste\Rashness: When Mikhael is angry, which does not happen often, he often makes hasty decisions that are heavily influenced by his anger and often stupid.
Deep Sleep: He cannot sleep lightly, he is almost always very deeply asleep and not much will wake him.
Loyalty: I list this as both a weakness and a strength, both a blessing and a curse, because it does work both ways. Mikhael can be over loyal, too trusting, this has landed him in a hot spot more than once. Also, this gives him sadness over things like the deaths or injury of his family and friends.
History:
***Just in case you couldn't tell, the italics is a flashback.***
There were four hares of the Long Patrol in the meadow, a large meadow and there was no cover for them, they would all die. Just inside a small clump of trees Mikhael raised his bow, drew the arrow to his ear, and fired. As the arrow streaked towards the chest of the leader, he remembered his life thus far, he remembered why he hated Hares so much, why he hated all ‘good’ creatures with more than the ordinary Hordebeast passion, why he went out of his way to kill them, even at times like this when he was outnumbered; outnumbered, but that made little difference when the fight started at this range. The arrow struck the colonels chest just as a second arrow began its arc towards the hares. As they turned and began to move towards him at an incredible speed that still amazed him after so many that he had killed, he realized that there were five of them, still though, they had no chance.
It was their fault really that he hated them so much. They had killed his whole family, his whole clan, everyone he knew and the animals that he even cared about to the extent that one of his species could care about another being. He would probably have been just another ferret, just another drunken lout that one of these hares could kill in its sleep; but they had killed everyone, made his childhood an experience he had tried hard to forget, that was, before he used it to fuel his hatred and then to hammer his hatred into a cold desire for blood.
The second arrow struck true and the third didn’t need any kind of arc, they were close enough now; there were only three left, but they were half way to him; no matter. Their battle cry rang out from three throats, “Eulaliaaaa!” He had tried one time to turn, to change to become what they called ‘good’; really though, he should have known it wouldn’t work. He had tried to be as unthreatening as he could, but when the little hedgehogs and dormice saw him they ran away crying; some threw stones at him before fleeing in terror. He had tried to explain to the moles and squirrels that saw him, but they could not see past his skin. They shot at him, he had no bow at the time, he dodged as best he could, which was to say he ended up with no less than three arrows grazing him and one piercing his left paw.
Another hare went down, this time the arrow had pierced its throat. Two left, but they were closing fast; he dropped his bow, drew his saber and ran to meet them. A squirrel had gotten too near to him, her life had been snuffed out with one quick snap of her neck. He had run then, but they had followed, then suddenly he had vanished. They didn’t know where he was until he popped out of a bush into the middle of the moles. The squirrels had shot at him, but hit only moles, the moles had fought, but rage and loss fueled him to fight like no ordinary hordebeast, he had never heard of one that really understood this type of loss, and certainly none that had tried to change, but been refused the chance.
At precisely the right moment he leapt into the air. The squirrels had come out of the trees when things had stopped moving below except one mole which moaned softly. There were seven moles laying there, and from underneath one corpse poked a leg, a forepaw stuck out at a different place lying limply, but with a spear still laying on the palm; a ferret paw.
As Mikhael flew through the air between the two hares, he leaned down and to the right and struck a mighty blow with his saber that cleanly chopped off the hare’s head. Two of the nine squirrels that had come after him at such short notice, dragged the mole carcass off him to make sure he was dead while the others scattered to see if any moles still lived, and attended to the one that still moaned quietly. He swung his spear, stabbing it through one of the squirrels that stood over him and into the other one as well. It was said that only badgers felt the bloodwrath, a true saying, but if he had been asked how it would be, he would have said something like this. He came up as they fell, the seven remaining squirrels turned. His spear flew through the air and another squirrel went down. Six left, out came his long knife like that everyone in his clan had carried before they had been killed.
He executed a perfect role as he fell, well, it would have been perfect, had he not struck his left shoulder on a stone that he had not seen; it wasn’t broken, just bruised badly. Mikhael came to his feet facing the direction he had come from just in time to see the hare spin around and leap at him, thrusting with its long spear. He stopped. What was he thinking? There were six healthy squirrels, and he, one ferret was no match for them. He dove into the trees and started running. They did not pursue him, they had to take care of the wounded, but now he was imprinted in all of their minds and they would tell others and those others would tell others. Well, better start preparing. This was when he undertook the quest to forge his bow, most bows are not forged, but this one was; forged in hate and cooled in resolve. The resolve was to kill as many woodlanders as he could before he died and to strike fear into the rest of them.
The spear thrust was just inches from Mikhael’s ear, he had sidestepped just enough. As the hare twisted in mid-air to throw the spear, its left leg was removed from its body by Mikhael’s saber still the thing threw the spear, its angle had been upset though and it struck the ferret’s arm, the same arm he had hurt on the stone. He gritted his teeth in pain, and wrenched the spear out of his arm. The hare landed heavily and lay there, slowly Mikhael walked over to it, drawing his long belt knife as he did so. “Bye bye bunny.” He said softly, and speeded the rabbit on its way to the Dark Forest.
Relationships:
He doesn’t know if anyone he ever knew are still alive, they might be, but it is very doubtful. Anyone he has worked with in the passed, he has ended up…disposing of.
Other
I used a ferret because they seem to be competent at a greater rate than stoats or weasels. I thought about weasels because of Ferhago, but I think this works out better. Shadow was a ferret I think.
If you have MSN, add me. I’m Janya54@hotmail.com
Gender: Male
Age: 37 years
Species: Ferret
Occupation: Assassin when it suits him\Thief\Serial Killer
Physical Appearance:
Body: For a ferret, he is short, but not by enough to make him look odd, just enough to make him a little different. Mikhael is often referred to as ‘chunky’ by those that have actually seen him, but this is not fat as most believe. The muscles under his long, silky fur so dark a shade of brown that it is almost black are huge for an animal of his size. His legs, arms, and entire abdomen would bulge with the muscles, was his fur not so long as to hide it and make it seem that he has simply spent to much time at the dinner table.
Eyes: Shining like black pearls, his eyes are always moving, flicking here and there, searching, but when they rest on a creature for even an instant, more often than not a chill creeps up their spine and they want nothing more but to be away.
Claws: Mikhael keeps his claws trimmed back so as not to interfere with his usage of knife or bow or other weaponry. This is not to say that they are not dangerous; in a kill attributed to him, Mikhael supposedly killed three armed moles with his bare paws; they were all found with their throats slashed in a sort of jagged way that had to be claws and various claw marks elsewhere, as well as broken limbs. Skeptics say that he disarmed them and then brutally murdered them, no one really wanted to find out though.
Clothes included in possessions.
Possessions:
Weapons
Bow: Mikhael’s most prized possession is sturdy composite bow. He made it from the wood of the finest black birch he had ever seen, leg bones of a wolf that he had killed himself in the mountain passes and the tendons of that same wolf; bound together with a sticky substance made from the hide of a field mouse and a trout bladder. The length of the bow was wrapped in the bark of a yellow birch to protect it from the elements.
-The bowstring was also special; he made it from a horse’s hide. It had taken him almost a full season to find one of these huge noble beasts and longer still to figure out a way to bring it down. Finally he had devised a plan, he followed the horse as best he could, losing it at times, but always finding it again when it stopped; for the most part it simply wandered around and was not so hard to follow. He waited until the horse fell asleep, and then he climbed slowly up to its neck, he felt around a little to be sure to strike at the right place and then plunged a spear he had taken from a rat two days before, deep into the back of the neck. For all its majesty and beauty, the horse lost the use of its body just like any other animal would have. He made exactly 100 strings, hopefully enough extras to last him his lifetime.
-The arrowheads were made of steel in a long thin shape that (though it was originally designed simply to improve the aerodynamics of the arrow), would punch through armor even better than a crossbow bolt. He had originally used the volcanic rock that he found on the slopes of Salamandastron, but when that came in contact with heavy plate armor, it often broke and never punctured.
-The shaft of each arrow was made from both Oak and Ash wood, the Oak, being the heavier, would make up the foot closest to the arrowhead and the rest of the arrow was made of Ash. The two woods were fitted together so expertly that the only way one could tell that the arrow was indeed ‘footed’ as it was termed, was by the darker shade of the wood closer to the arrowhead. This increased the arrow’s aerodynamics.
Saber: A slightly curved saber, taken from a searat he had killed on his one journey to Terramort is his close combat weapon, but for what he calls ‘pleasure killing’ he prefers his knife.
Belt Knife: The long bladed belt knife made of folded steel with the lower half of one edge being serrated for cutting ropes quickly, is his favorite killing weapon, it makes the killing a more intimate activity.
Clothes
Wolf Fur Coat: From the same wolf he had killed to get materials for his bow, Mikhael also made a fine fur coat that he wore all winter. It inspired terror into any who would think of attacking him, or resisting against him. To many animals, it would seem that if he could kill a wolf, he could do just about anything. Truth to tell, it hadn’t been that hard, he had just had a rock roll down on it’s head, the hard part had been getting the wolf where he wanted it; without dying that was. Half of the fur had been bloodied, ripped, and rendered useless, but the rest was more than enough for a ferret.
Regular Clothes: A tunic and breeches of fine cut but durable material that are very worn and travel stained he always throws away his old clothes when he finds some new ones that fit and aren’t too different.
Cloaks: Mikhael owns two cloaks, a dead black one that he wears at when stalking or traveling at night and a gray one of good make that he wears all the other time.
Night Clothes: For most people, ‘night clothes’ is just a different way of saying ‘bed clothes’, for Mikhael it’s slightly different; these are black trousers and shirt that he wears when he doesn’t want to be seen at night, often because he will be killing or at the very least robbing.
Items in Pack
Bedroll: Good for when you don’t want to sleep on the bare ground
Tinderbox: For lighting fires, don’t leave home without it!
Food: Usually residing in his pack is a portion of dried meat, some bread, and often assorted other foods that won’t make a mess of his pack.
Personality:
Cold, hard, cruel, but surprisingly loyal as ferrets come; loyal, but nothing and no one to be loyal to anymore (explained in history). Mikhael is rather friendly to those of like mind, and has enough sense not to ostracize those who could be allies. He has a morbid sense of humor. Usually thinks things through, but is prone to rashness when angered.
Strengths:
Swiftness\Extreme Agility: Pretty self-explanatory, he’s an athletic animal. From scaling walls to running races, he’s your rodent. This is lessened by his latest injury in the end of the bio, but less than you might think.
Archery: Very adept with his composite bow, or any bow for that matter.
Brains: A smart animal, innovative.
Loyalty: As stated in the personality section, Mikhael is more loyal than most Hordebeasts, this gives him the ability to have actual friends and not merely ‘co-workers.’ Although it is not the same for them and thus he has been forced to kill anyone he has worked with to date.
Weaknesses:
Pleasure Killing: He takes the greatest joy out of killing other ‘good’ creatures. He is quite a genius in finding ways to get to his victim or getting out unnoticed by others, but often he will go out of his way while he is either assassinating or robbing someone to kill, or draw out a killing which gives his pursuers time to catch up. He immensely enjoys talking to the animal before he kills it.
Left arm weakness: At this time his left arm is not very useful, he can still use it to shoot his bow, but the wound taken in the end of the history hurts his ability to lift anything heavy and his climbing abilities; for now.
Haste\Rashness: When Mikhael is angry, which does not happen often, he often makes hasty decisions that are heavily influenced by his anger and often stupid.
Deep Sleep: He cannot sleep lightly, he is almost always very deeply asleep and not much will wake him.
Loyalty: I list this as both a weakness and a strength, both a blessing and a curse, because it does work both ways. Mikhael can be over loyal, too trusting, this has landed him in a hot spot more than once. Also, this gives him sadness over things like the deaths or injury of his family and friends.
History:
***Just in case you couldn't tell, the italics is a flashback.***
There were four hares of the Long Patrol in the meadow, a large meadow and there was no cover for them, they would all die. Just inside a small clump of trees Mikhael raised his bow, drew the arrow to his ear, and fired. As the arrow streaked towards the chest of the leader, he remembered his life thus far, he remembered why he hated Hares so much, why he hated all ‘good’ creatures with more than the ordinary Hordebeast passion, why he went out of his way to kill them, even at times like this when he was outnumbered; outnumbered, but that made little difference when the fight started at this range. The arrow struck the colonels chest just as a second arrow began its arc towards the hares. As they turned and began to move towards him at an incredible speed that still amazed him after so many that he had killed, he realized that there were five of them, still though, they had no chance.
It was their fault really that he hated them so much. They had killed his whole family, his whole clan, everyone he knew and the animals that he even cared about to the extent that one of his species could care about another being. He would probably have been just another ferret, just another drunken lout that one of these hares could kill in its sleep; but they had killed everyone, made his childhood an experience he had tried hard to forget, that was, before he used it to fuel his hatred and then to hammer his hatred into a cold desire for blood.
The second arrow struck true and the third didn’t need any kind of arc, they were close enough now; there were only three left, but they were half way to him; no matter. Their battle cry rang out from three throats, “Eulaliaaaa!” He had tried one time to turn, to change to become what they called ‘good’; really though, he should have known it wouldn’t work. He had tried to be as unthreatening as he could, but when the little hedgehogs and dormice saw him they ran away crying; some threw stones at him before fleeing in terror. He had tried to explain to the moles and squirrels that saw him, but they could not see past his skin. They shot at him, he had no bow at the time, he dodged as best he could, which was to say he ended up with no less than three arrows grazing him and one piercing his left paw.
Another hare went down, this time the arrow had pierced its throat. Two left, but they were closing fast; he dropped his bow, drew his saber and ran to meet them. A squirrel had gotten too near to him, her life had been snuffed out with one quick snap of her neck. He had run then, but they had followed, then suddenly he had vanished. They didn’t know where he was until he popped out of a bush into the middle of the moles. The squirrels had shot at him, but hit only moles, the moles had fought, but rage and loss fueled him to fight like no ordinary hordebeast, he had never heard of one that really understood this type of loss, and certainly none that had tried to change, but been refused the chance.
At precisely the right moment he leapt into the air. The squirrels had come out of the trees when things had stopped moving below except one mole which moaned softly. There were seven moles laying there, and from underneath one corpse poked a leg, a forepaw stuck out at a different place lying limply, but with a spear still laying on the palm; a ferret paw.
As Mikhael flew through the air between the two hares, he leaned down and to the right and struck a mighty blow with his saber that cleanly chopped off the hare’s head. Two of the nine squirrels that had come after him at such short notice, dragged the mole carcass off him to make sure he was dead while the others scattered to see if any moles still lived, and attended to the one that still moaned quietly. He swung his spear, stabbing it through one of the squirrels that stood over him and into the other one as well. It was said that only badgers felt the bloodwrath, a true saying, but if he had been asked how it would be, he would have said something like this. He came up as they fell, the seven remaining squirrels turned. His spear flew through the air and another squirrel went down. Six left, out came his long knife like that everyone in his clan had carried before they had been killed.
He executed a perfect role as he fell, well, it would have been perfect, had he not struck his left shoulder on a stone that he had not seen; it wasn’t broken, just bruised badly. Mikhael came to his feet facing the direction he had come from just in time to see the hare spin around and leap at him, thrusting with its long spear. He stopped. What was he thinking? There were six healthy squirrels, and he, one ferret was no match for them. He dove into the trees and started running. They did not pursue him, they had to take care of the wounded, but now he was imprinted in all of their minds and they would tell others and those others would tell others. Well, better start preparing. This was when he undertook the quest to forge his bow, most bows are not forged, but this one was; forged in hate and cooled in resolve. The resolve was to kill as many woodlanders as he could before he died and to strike fear into the rest of them.
The spear thrust was just inches from Mikhael’s ear, he had sidestepped just enough. As the hare twisted in mid-air to throw the spear, its left leg was removed from its body by Mikhael’s saber still the thing threw the spear, its angle had been upset though and it struck the ferret’s arm, the same arm he had hurt on the stone. He gritted his teeth in pain, and wrenched the spear out of his arm. The hare landed heavily and lay there, slowly Mikhael walked over to it, drawing his long belt knife as he did so. “Bye bye bunny.” He said softly, and speeded the rabbit on its way to the Dark Forest.
Relationships:
He doesn’t know if anyone he ever knew are still alive, they might be, but it is very doubtful. Anyone he has worked with in the passed, he has ended up…disposing of.
Other
I used a ferret because they seem to be competent at a greater rate than stoats or weasels. I thought about weasels because of Ferhago, but I think this works out better. Shadow was a ferret I think.
If you have MSN, add me. I’m Janya54@hotmail.com
