Post by mite on Apr 5, 2013 21:58:40 GMT -5
Name: Captain Keeta the Cutthroat
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Species: Wildcat
Occupation: Freebooter Captain
Physical Appearance:
Keeta has a strange way of seeming both alluring and dangerous all at the same time. The gray-furred beauty hails from some northern clan and bears dark markings and stripes in a mottled, ashy pelt. Slender and athletic, Keeta can easily make herself seem disarming and quite charming only to turn into a fireball the next with death in her umber gaze. Though not necessarily tall, most of her crew usually hold some measure of height over the petite wildcat, though don't let that fool you. The elegant buccaneer can fight like a score of beasts and has a real mean streak that's lasted the last pawful of seasons.
Keeta always dresses well, taking care to seem well-cared for and in good order. She always keeps her armor and long frock coat tidy and every weapon is double-checked and displayed. At her left side and held on a thick fox-hide belt is her fencing saber, the blade long, slim and lethal. A marvelous basket hilt weaves round to protect the paw and a massive emerald stone ornaments the decoration facing the defender when held en garde. At her right side and on a similarly gorgeous belt tanned of stoat leather sits, in a painstaking crafted scabbard, a fearsome long dagger. It would make a great short sword for a mouse at its size with its deep blood channel and amethyst pommel gem. Dark leather, seasoned from use, wraps the hilt; unlike the saber's cord-wrapped hilt. The wildcat generally dual-wields the blades in tandem, becoming a deadly whirlwind wherever she treads.
At times the Freebooter Captain may dress simply in stolen Corsair silks or armor, leaving her ill-gotten indigo frock coat for more important occasions. Even her armor is simple: naught but a sleeveless, tanned leather jerkin studded with bronze, padded breeches cut-off below the knee, studded leather wrist and ankle bracers and that was mostly it. She prefers to be able to swim if she absolutely has to, but hates to be without some form of protection.
Though it would be rare to see the wildcat without armor, if one did a beast might be surprised how beautiful the cat's pelt is. Shades of ash to charcoal create a dappling pattern and almost tiger-like striping. A dark splotch across her nose and brows give hard points to her face that draw creature's eyes to hers, allowing her to bore into them with her clay-colored gaze.
Possessions:
- Fencing saber
- Long dagger
- Hidden throwing blade in her sword-belt
- Armor: studded leather vest, padded breeches, wrist and ankle bracers
- Two-masted schooner “Icehunter”
- Crew of 75 beasts
Personality:
If the wildcat is anything, it’s unpredictable. Keeta has been known to be all smiles one moment, her voice thick as though with honey and temptation, only to turn and gut the very next creature to face her. It’s perhaps this absolute volatility which inspired her title of Cutthroat, that and her cold nature and emotionless demeanor. She slays without feeling and plans death and destruction without a blink. She longs for her vengeance and will focus on nothing else. Her life has become that need for absolute revenge, and though her crew is loyal, sometimes they can wonder at her sudden-changing moods.
Those that know her best from the old days understand and embrace her anger while some of the newer recruits can only scratch their heads. One thing is for certain, she’s a dangerous creature, as a sly as a fox and relentless as a Badger Lord. She prefers to think and plan and makes a regular habit of envisioning her enemy before her, tearing into his flesh strip by slow, little strip…
And she smiles in sadistic delight…nothing will keep her from her goal. Absolutely nothing.
Strengths:
- Seasoned swordsbeast
- Quick on her feet
- Quick-thinking and resourceful
Weaknesses:
- Severely injured sword-arm: the struggle with Vünder nearly ruined her arm. If it hadn’t been for the clever healer in the Raider’s crew, it might have been. Luckily no arteries were severed so she lived, and it healed; but not right. Nerve and bone damage within can cause numbness without warning and searing pain can accompany cold weather and odd barometric pressure. Most days she is in some form of pain, and it hasn’t helped with improving her quickly souring mood. Only two creatures know of her ailment, her first mate and boson and, wisely, they keep it to themselves, helping their Captain get the herbs and salves she needs to make living and fighting tolerable.
- Fear of drowning: not water, drowning. Being caught in water won’t send her into a panic, but if she starts gulping water or it becomes clear she might be too far to swim to safety…that certainly could. She also wouldn’t be fond of water torture or the mere threat of being drowned. Water combat for her would be almost impossible, she’d be too busy trying to keep her head above water.
- Petite: Keeta might be a gray-furred lightning bolt, but she’s not exactly the brawniest of creatures. She relies on speed and agility far more than power and brute strength. Generally she won’t attack a creature she’s not certain she can win against, and size is a factor in that, despite her ferocity. However, one doesn’t often have the privilege of ‘choice’ in matters of combat, and the small cat is often forced to think on her feet to make up for her lack of sheer brawn. She’s not a living legend, she’s been bested in combat before; it’s mainly her wits and pure animalistic savagery that keep her alive.
- Obsession: It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that the wildcat has lost some of her sanity in her relentless pursuit of vengeance. She sleeps less and less, spends more time staring into the horizon with her own, twisted thoughts and sometimes mutters to herself of her plans and intentions. She’s constantly thinking, planning, scheming; envisioning ways to hurt and torment the creature that killed her kin and nearly ruined her arm. Slow…that’s how she’d do it. Real slow. She thinks about it a lot, it’s become her favorite pastime. And sometimes…sometimes it can be hard to bring her out of those sudden bouts of mild mania, no matter how much she privately enjoys their visits.
History:
The wildcat Captain’s story, like many vermin, is a sad and harrowing one. Hailing from the Northlands across the eastern sea she once lived alongside her proud clanbeasts and family. Warriors by bloodline, the roving clans fought for territory, mates and sometimes just for fun. It was a reckless, carefree life that Keeta embraced alongside her brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles.
Until it all came crashing down.
A force traveling out of the Far North arrived one winter’s night, as though with the snow itself on the chill wind. Merciless ermines and foxes sought to drive the clans back and away, but seeing the danger, the clans were forced to unite and fight back.
And it may have worked had the poison-laced words of one particular ermine, a slybeast called Vünder, not caused a cataclysmic divide between the fierce wildcats. Disguising himself as a sympathizer, he stole amongst the cats and began whispering deadly rumors.
Nobeast but Keeta and a few others, however, would ever realize how deadly. With the clans at each other’s throats they fell like wheat to the scythe against the snowbeast’s forces. Soon those that caught on scattered to survive, the once proud northern clans all but completely decimated in the course of a single season.
Burning with rage, a then-teenaged Keeta returned to her home once the army had moved on. She, like so few others, fled into the woods when it became clear there would be no victory for the clans. Staying away for several days, she waited until the stink of the ermine and foxes had dispersed before returning home to dig graves and collect her belongings.
A newfound sense of purpose and rage burned in the wildcat’s eyes. With her clan scattered there was no reason to remain. So, she would take what she could and pursue the vile ermine and his kin…and somehow, she’d make them pay.
But it would take several seasons before she had any such power. Everywhere the army tread Keeta kept ten paces behind, doing her best to scoop up the flotsam and survivors of the army’s wake and gather them to her cause. The fiery and rather charming wildcat had a natural charisma that rallied several angry vermin to her goal: vengeance. After all, it didn’t take much. Everywhere the ermine and foxes went, they left behind angry survivors eager for blood.
By her twentieth season Keeta had a loyal following of threescore beasts that she used to heckle the ermine’s army in guerrilla fashion. But her youth and anger would cost her several beasts, some killed by the army, others deserting the all too wild wildcat.
A few slip-ups and arguments with other vermin vying for control of the war party later, and Keeta had finally figured out how to reign in her temper. By age twenty-three she seemed to finally have a grip on things, still tailing the army; still gathering the stragglers and survivors.
But it was luck which aided Keeta and her band of now 40-strong. A raging avalanche wiped out half of the northern army and left them vulnerable. Keeta was able to pick off their numbers both during and after the confusion. It led to a harrowing chase towards the sea which lasted some three days. The ermine and his army would try to outrun the angry survivors but their archers were keeping them well in a hurry. It came to a head the night before they reached the shore, Keeta launching an all out night-time offensive as a ditch effort to wipe them out.
It may have worked had Vünder not been as sharp as his would-be murderer. Thinking fast the ermine kicked the pole to his tent over when Keeta and two others came for him, giving him the precious time he needed to escape.
But he would not be so lucky, unwilling to let her adversary escape Keeta lunged after him, tackling him to the ground. She bit and clawed, grappling onto his throat and squeezing with all her might; and Vünder did as best he could, dug his own claws into her biceps and snarled. He jerked suddenly, remembering a knife in his coat. Pulling it free he dug the blade up to the hilt into the wildcat’s right bicep, leaving her shrieking with pain and clutching for the offending blade. It gave Vünder the time he needed to escape, but just as worse for the wear as he clutched his throat, trying desperately to stem the bleeding from the terrible wounds the cat’s claws had inflicted.
Original misfortune turned to luck when the ermine and what was left of his routed army chanced upon a crew of Sea Raiders asleep by the shore. Stealing past, the ermine and his small band snuck onto the ship and made full sail for the sea, never looking back. Keeta pursued after one of her band had bound her arm swiftly in lichen and an old silk tunic. They pursued as soon as she was ready but arrived at the scene several moments too late. Cursing, yowling and screeching the wildcat threw a tantrum upon the hillock and could only boil and burn as she watched the ermine’s form disappear into the cool, misty waters.
Within moments she and her creatures were mingling with the now quite enraged Sea Raider crew. The scene almost became violent until Keeta made it clear she had no love for the ermine and wanted him dead. The Raider crew liked her idea, and suggested they join forces to track them down and make them pay.
Keeta agreed with more than just evil intentions, she could see the Raider’s captain was a foolish creature. After they managed to steal a sizeable schooner she began cozying up to the captain’s First Mate and Boson, putting a diabolical plan into motion. Tempting the beasts with positions of power and riches, they were easily convinced to assassinate their hapless captain. Her instructions were simple, sneak in, slit his throat while he slept, and then hide the weapon somewhere nobeast would find it; Keeta suggested a particularly ignored barrel in the galley. They’d blame some poor, hapless lowbeast and be done with it. The plan was seen to and carried out in swift order and as though without a hitch…until Keeta arrived on-scene with the murder-weapon in-paw, pointing an accusing claw at the First Mate and Boson she swore she saw skulking by his cabin the night before.
Several of her own creatures confirmed the sighting with sightings of their own, lying through their teeth.
The unfortunate and very much bewildered creatures were strung up, tortured and eventually slain, tossed into sea with Keeta unanimously voted as new captain. And so Captain Keeta she became, but she wouldn’t earn the name Cutthroat until a couple seasons later.
Since then her reputation has continued to grow and as a result every once in a while she’ll find herself approached by vermin who wish to be part of her crew. This plus recruiting from slain crews she pillaged grew her numbers to near fourscore. Through it all Keeta has grown into a fierce fighter with an untamed warrior spirit. The cat seems to fear nothing, driven by rage and fury; the bloodlust of her slaughtered kin.
Ever does she search the sea and land alike in hopes of catching wind of the ermine, but she always seems to be three steps behind, catching nothing but his elusive wake or pawsteps and whispered tales on the wind.
Relationships:
Her crew are the only beasts she knows now.
Though I'd be open to possible other surviving clanbeasts if someone wanted to play one. x3
Other: Neutral/Evil
Gender: Female
Age: 26
Species: Wildcat
Occupation: Freebooter Captain
Physical Appearance:
Keeta has a strange way of seeming both alluring and dangerous all at the same time. The gray-furred beauty hails from some northern clan and bears dark markings and stripes in a mottled, ashy pelt. Slender and athletic, Keeta can easily make herself seem disarming and quite charming only to turn into a fireball the next with death in her umber gaze. Though not necessarily tall, most of her crew usually hold some measure of height over the petite wildcat, though don't let that fool you. The elegant buccaneer can fight like a score of beasts and has a real mean streak that's lasted the last pawful of seasons.
Keeta always dresses well, taking care to seem well-cared for and in good order. She always keeps her armor and long frock coat tidy and every weapon is double-checked and displayed. At her left side and held on a thick fox-hide belt is her fencing saber, the blade long, slim and lethal. A marvelous basket hilt weaves round to protect the paw and a massive emerald stone ornaments the decoration facing the defender when held en garde. At her right side and on a similarly gorgeous belt tanned of stoat leather sits, in a painstaking crafted scabbard, a fearsome long dagger. It would make a great short sword for a mouse at its size with its deep blood channel and amethyst pommel gem. Dark leather, seasoned from use, wraps the hilt; unlike the saber's cord-wrapped hilt. The wildcat generally dual-wields the blades in tandem, becoming a deadly whirlwind wherever she treads.
At times the Freebooter Captain may dress simply in stolen Corsair silks or armor, leaving her ill-gotten indigo frock coat for more important occasions. Even her armor is simple: naught but a sleeveless, tanned leather jerkin studded with bronze, padded breeches cut-off below the knee, studded leather wrist and ankle bracers and that was mostly it. She prefers to be able to swim if she absolutely has to, but hates to be without some form of protection.
Though it would be rare to see the wildcat without armor, if one did a beast might be surprised how beautiful the cat's pelt is. Shades of ash to charcoal create a dappling pattern and almost tiger-like striping. A dark splotch across her nose and brows give hard points to her face that draw creature's eyes to hers, allowing her to bore into them with her clay-colored gaze.
Possessions:
- Fencing saber
- Long dagger
- Hidden throwing blade in her sword-belt
- Armor: studded leather vest, padded breeches, wrist and ankle bracers
- Two-masted schooner “Icehunter”
- Crew of 75 beasts
Personality:
If the wildcat is anything, it’s unpredictable. Keeta has been known to be all smiles one moment, her voice thick as though with honey and temptation, only to turn and gut the very next creature to face her. It’s perhaps this absolute volatility which inspired her title of Cutthroat, that and her cold nature and emotionless demeanor. She slays without feeling and plans death and destruction without a blink. She longs for her vengeance and will focus on nothing else. Her life has become that need for absolute revenge, and though her crew is loyal, sometimes they can wonder at her sudden-changing moods.
Those that know her best from the old days understand and embrace her anger while some of the newer recruits can only scratch their heads. One thing is for certain, she’s a dangerous creature, as a sly as a fox and relentless as a Badger Lord. She prefers to think and plan and makes a regular habit of envisioning her enemy before her, tearing into his flesh strip by slow, little strip…
And she smiles in sadistic delight…nothing will keep her from her goal. Absolutely nothing.
Strengths:
- Seasoned swordsbeast
- Quick on her feet
- Quick-thinking and resourceful
Weaknesses:
- Severely injured sword-arm: the struggle with Vünder nearly ruined her arm. If it hadn’t been for the clever healer in the Raider’s crew, it might have been. Luckily no arteries were severed so she lived, and it healed; but not right. Nerve and bone damage within can cause numbness without warning and searing pain can accompany cold weather and odd barometric pressure. Most days she is in some form of pain, and it hasn’t helped with improving her quickly souring mood. Only two creatures know of her ailment, her first mate and boson and, wisely, they keep it to themselves, helping their Captain get the herbs and salves she needs to make living and fighting tolerable.
- Fear of drowning: not water, drowning. Being caught in water won’t send her into a panic, but if she starts gulping water or it becomes clear she might be too far to swim to safety…that certainly could. She also wouldn’t be fond of water torture or the mere threat of being drowned. Water combat for her would be almost impossible, she’d be too busy trying to keep her head above water.
- Petite: Keeta might be a gray-furred lightning bolt, but she’s not exactly the brawniest of creatures. She relies on speed and agility far more than power and brute strength. Generally she won’t attack a creature she’s not certain she can win against, and size is a factor in that, despite her ferocity. However, one doesn’t often have the privilege of ‘choice’ in matters of combat, and the small cat is often forced to think on her feet to make up for her lack of sheer brawn. She’s not a living legend, she’s been bested in combat before; it’s mainly her wits and pure animalistic savagery that keep her alive.
- Obsession: It wouldn’t be far-fetched to say that the wildcat has lost some of her sanity in her relentless pursuit of vengeance. She sleeps less and less, spends more time staring into the horizon with her own, twisted thoughts and sometimes mutters to herself of her plans and intentions. She’s constantly thinking, planning, scheming; envisioning ways to hurt and torment the creature that killed her kin and nearly ruined her arm. Slow…that’s how she’d do it. Real slow. She thinks about it a lot, it’s become her favorite pastime. And sometimes…sometimes it can be hard to bring her out of those sudden bouts of mild mania, no matter how much she privately enjoys their visits.
History:
The wildcat Captain’s story, like many vermin, is a sad and harrowing one. Hailing from the Northlands across the eastern sea she once lived alongside her proud clanbeasts and family. Warriors by bloodline, the roving clans fought for territory, mates and sometimes just for fun. It was a reckless, carefree life that Keeta embraced alongside her brothers and sisters and aunts and uncles.
Until it all came crashing down.
A force traveling out of the Far North arrived one winter’s night, as though with the snow itself on the chill wind. Merciless ermines and foxes sought to drive the clans back and away, but seeing the danger, the clans were forced to unite and fight back.
And it may have worked had the poison-laced words of one particular ermine, a slybeast called Vünder, not caused a cataclysmic divide between the fierce wildcats. Disguising himself as a sympathizer, he stole amongst the cats and began whispering deadly rumors.
Nobeast but Keeta and a few others, however, would ever realize how deadly. With the clans at each other’s throats they fell like wheat to the scythe against the snowbeast’s forces. Soon those that caught on scattered to survive, the once proud northern clans all but completely decimated in the course of a single season.
Burning with rage, a then-teenaged Keeta returned to her home once the army had moved on. She, like so few others, fled into the woods when it became clear there would be no victory for the clans. Staying away for several days, she waited until the stink of the ermine and foxes had dispersed before returning home to dig graves and collect her belongings.
A newfound sense of purpose and rage burned in the wildcat’s eyes. With her clan scattered there was no reason to remain. So, she would take what she could and pursue the vile ermine and his kin…and somehow, she’d make them pay.
But it would take several seasons before she had any such power. Everywhere the army tread Keeta kept ten paces behind, doing her best to scoop up the flotsam and survivors of the army’s wake and gather them to her cause. The fiery and rather charming wildcat had a natural charisma that rallied several angry vermin to her goal: vengeance. After all, it didn’t take much. Everywhere the ermine and foxes went, they left behind angry survivors eager for blood.
By her twentieth season Keeta had a loyal following of threescore beasts that she used to heckle the ermine’s army in guerrilla fashion. But her youth and anger would cost her several beasts, some killed by the army, others deserting the all too wild wildcat.
A few slip-ups and arguments with other vermin vying for control of the war party later, and Keeta had finally figured out how to reign in her temper. By age twenty-three she seemed to finally have a grip on things, still tailing the army; still gathering the stragglers and survivors.
But it was luck which aided Keeta and her band of now 40-strong. A raging avalanche wiped out half of the northern army and left them vulnerable. Keeta was able to pick off their numbers both during and after the confusion. It led to a harrowing chase towards the sea which lasted some three days. The ermine and his army would try to outrun the angry survivors but their archers were keeping them well in a hurry. It came to a head the night before they reached the shore, Keeta launching an all out night-time offensive as a ditch effort to wipe them out.
It may have worked had Vünder not been as sharp as his would-be murderer. Thinking fast the ermine kicked the pole to his tent over when Keeta and two others came for him, giving him the precious time he needed to escape.
But he would not be so lucky, unwilling to let her adversary escape Keeta lunged after him, tackling him to the ground. She bit and clawed, grappling onto his throat and squeezing with all her might; and Vünder did as best he could, dug his own claws into her biceps and snarled. He jerked suddenly, remembering a knife in his coat. Pulling it free he dug the blade up to the hilt into the wildcat’s right bicep, leaving her shrieking with pain and clutching for the offending blade. It gave Vünder the time he needed to escape, but just as worse for the wear as he clutched his throat, trying desperately to stem the bleeding from the terrible wounds the cat’s claws had inflicted.
Original misfortune turned to luck when the ermine and what was left of his routed army chanced upon a crew of Sea Raiders asleep by the shore. Stealing past, the ermine and his small band snuck onto the ship and made full sail for the sea, never looking back. Keeta pursued after one of her band had bound her arm swiftly in lichen and an old silk tunic. They pursued as soon as she was ready but arrived at the scene several moments too late. Cursing, yowling and screeching the wildcat threw a tantrum upon the hillock and could only boil and burn as she watched the ermine’s form disappear into the cool, misty waters.
Within moments she and her creatures were mingling with the now quite enraged Sea Raider crew. The scene almost became violent until Keeta made it clear she had no love for the ermine and wanted him dead. The Raider crew liked her idea, and suggested they join forces to track them down and make them pay.
Keeta agreed with more than just evil intentions, she could see the Raider’s captain was a foolish creature. After they managed to steal a sizeable schooner she began cozying up to the captain’s First Mate and Boson, putting a diabolical plan into motion. Tempting the beasts with positions of power and riches, they were easily convinced to assassinate their hapless captain. Her instructions were simple, sneak in, slit his throat while he slept, and then hide the weapon somewhere nobeast would find it; Keeta suggested a particularly ignored barrel in the galley. They’d blame some poor, hapless lowbeast and be done with it. The plan was seen to and carried out in swift order and as though without a hitch…until Keeta arrived on-scene with the murder-weapon in-paw, pointing an accusing claw at the First Mate and Boson she swore she saw skulking by his cabin the night before.
Several of her own creatures confirmed the sighting with sightings of their own, lying through their teeth.
The unfortunate and very much bewildered creatures were strung up, tortured and eventually slain, tossed into sea with Keeta unanimously voted as new captain. And so Captain Keeta she became, but she wouldn’t earn the name Cutthroat until a couple seasons later.
Since then her reputation has continued to grow and as a result every once in a while she’ll find herself approached by vermin who wish to be part of her crew. This plus recruiting from slain crews she pillaged grew her numbers to near fourscore. Through it all Keeta has grown into a fierce fighter with an untamed warrior spirit. The cat seems to fear nothing, driven by rage and fury; the bloodlust of her slaughtered kin.
Ever does she search the sea and land alike in hopes of catching wind of the ermine, but she always seems to be three steps behind, catching nothing but his elusive wake or pawsteps and whispered tales on the wind.
Relationships:
Her crew are the only beasts she knows now.
Though I'd be open to possible other surviving clanbeasts if someone wanted to play one. x3
Other: Neutral/Evil
