Post by .:Fawn:. on Aug 10, 2010 2:17:59 GMT -5
Name: Killian Blackmoor (Though he's gone by Cillian the Sly, Cillian Kiarly, Cilly, Killian, Niall, Killian Perle, Killian Black, etc)
Gender: Male
Age: 30 Years
Species: Sable (Though he once convinced a very poor-sighted hedgehog that he was a Pygmy Squirrel, but that's beside the point)
Occupation: Con-Artist, Master Thief, and Forger.
Physical Appearance:
As expected, Killian displays the not-uncommon traits of an average sable: a deep, dark brown in color, (the darkest parts being along his back, legs and ears) an average height of about 18 inches (standing upright) with a strong, lean, upper-and-lower body complimentary of his constant fending for survival. His tail is about a half an inch longer than the average marten's; that being said, it's no wonder he has to be extra careful when closing doors, running through hedges and climbing fences. He may just leave part of himself behind! Killian's ears are small and more rounded for a sable, sitting a reasonable distance away from each other on either side of his head. Despite their size, he's honed his hearing abilities to superbness – and unfortunately for him, his hypersensitivity disables him from fallin asleep with ease. Black but soulful eyes instead if soulless, it's clear to anyone who gets a good look at him that he's not exactly an ordinary sable or vermin of Mossflower Wood. Though they're small like his ears, they seem to be lacking the ruthless, cold glassy look some vermin are particularly known for. His coat is made of a soft under-wool, a dense second layer of hair, and a longer top-coat – very good for keeping out the rain and the autumn chill.
His nose is a deep purplish black, darkest at the top, lightest at the part where it connects to his furry little upper lip, The hair on his chin is actually white in collar, as with a diamond-shape patch of white on his thin but muscled chest. Interestingly enough, along with particularly sensitive ears, Killian's nose is the stuff of legends; able to sniff out the best quality wines, drinks, punches and any other kind of liquid beverage, Killian fancies himself a bit of a connoisseur of sorts. Interesting fact; the fur of a sable is much softer and silkier than the American Marten, if anyone was wondering...The dibbuns and females of his species find it rather inviting. In spite of having a sensitive nose, bright, warm black eyes and extremely sensitive ears, what seems to be lacking in his appearance, are his claws. Having not torn into actual animal flesh or bore the red tinge of blood, they're as pearly white as a newborn's. Sharp but unused, they give off the appearance of being quite a nasty little weapon for Killian – but he has his reasons for not using them.
There is a noticeable cleanliness about Killian that's a little hard to understand; being of a species that can be classified as 'vermin most foul', this has to be some kind of quirk in his personality rather than genetic deformity. Killian is obviously not your average sable; with a face that doesn't really cry 'bloodthirsty murderer' but more of 'honest traveler or merchant', Killian is a bit easier to trust in comparison to most vermin. All about “keeping appearances”, Killian dresses as though he spends money he doesn't exactly have. Usually adorned in a loose white cotton shirt, a sage-green waistcoat with a darker silk backing, black trousers and on occasion, a feathered Cavalier's hat with the feather of a quail or blue-jay. The blouse, though made of cotton, has quite a bit of handsome cross embroidery along the collar, with the neckline dropping into a semi-deep V that's nearly half the length of his chest. There's a hook and eye closure on the collar that he never uses. The sleeves are very loose (it's a lot of wasted fabric to him, but no one asked for his opinion), but end in close-fitting cuffs at his wrists.
As for his trousers, though they aren't as detailed as the blouse, he prefers them to the pants he'd had before. They had been some kind of noblebeast's trousers; black knee britches with a royal satin-like finish. But the problem was the button-up front and lace-up back with laced calves; Killian is not a patient beast, and hates to have to fiddle with all of those strings and buttons and whatchamacallits every time 'nature calls'. On occasion, (or rather, when he knows he's crossing into dangerous territory or into a hostile situation) Killian wears a small chain-mail vest in between the blouse and waist-coat. Though the likelihood of him getting into a fight is slim, it's in Killian's character to be prepared, even for the worst.
Possessions
Somewhere on his person is a small, homemade lock-picking kit, a silver wine corkscrew, a beautifully engraved flask of his drink of choice, a knife he has no idea how to use, and a hastily drawn map he won in a card game. Killian also carries a small knapsack that, on occasion, carries his chain-mail vest and two weeks' worth of food, if he can manage.
Personality:
Killian is about as trustworthy as a one-eyed badger in a poker game with everything to lose; however, you can always trust him to be..er...untrustworthy. Well, usually. A silver-tongued devil this sable doth make, his words are his weapon, his select set of skills his shield, and the means by which he makes a living. A certified liar, Killian could argue a bat into thinking it was just a very confused bird – or a flying squirrel even. He could probably convince a very slow-thinking lizard that it was actually a dog, and get it to bark a few times – but don't tempt him. Despite having such a, er, talent for weaving fantastic tales and excuses that not even the strictest beast could find fault with, Killian does know where to draw the line.
In his defense, he has always been honest with friends – well, he would be if he had any.
No creature in their right mind would dare him to do anything. Fiercely competitive, Killian has difficulty saying no to a challenge – especially if it's within his range of skills and credited abilities. Of course, when Killian completes a challenge, it often comes with a well-phrased remark or word of 'advice' to the creature who challenged him – Killian tending to make a spectacle of those he doesn't really like.
A sable with a bright, creative mind on top of his shoulders, Killian has a knack for riddles, puzzles and anything else that might prove difficult to others. Charming, polite, sophisticated and seemingly possessing an actual moral code (despite it's twisted quality), Killian makes it clear from the very first firm pawshake that he's a beast you're going to want to know. Smart, eloquent in speech and self-confident, he's the kind of creature that others look up or are immediately drawn to – a very charismatic quality about Mr. Killian Perle... Or, er, whatever you want to call him. What's hard for most good and bad creatures to understand is Killian's loneliness; outcast by those of his own species and other vermin alike, he is never fully trusted by decent creatures because of his looks. Well, if they knew the truth, they probably would've trusted him even less than they normally do; assuming that others won't really care much for the real Killian Perle, he often settles for putting on airs and fancy covers to give creatures what they want. If they want a gentlebeast, then that's what he'll be. He does a damn fine job of it too, if he does say so himself.
He's almost too good at it, and may've forgotten what it's really like to be himself. Now...about his moral code. Killian is a vegetarian (with the exception of fish and most sea foods), and hates the idea of harming another creature either out of self defense or sheer cruelty. There's something about his personality that is not hardwired to fight, rip or tear; his claws are unused because he doesn't really know how to use them apart from tinkering and picking locks. Merciful and sympathetic, he doesn't like to see other creatures get hurt – good or bad, though he's steeled himself to the mauling of bad creatures, knowing perfectly well that some of them probably deserve it. However, Killian makes certain that he's never the judge, jury and executioner. For one, he cannot handle that kind of decision, and if he were to make a decision, it would weigh heavily on his conscience from now until his death day. Two, he doesn't like to get involved in those kinds of arguments. Sure, he'll speak up in defense of someone who is clearly innocent, but he tries to stay as politically indifferent as possible.
His sense of justice is a little off. Thinking that he himself is just outside of the law, he reacts childishly when he is finally made to pay for some of his crimes. Killian doesn't like losing, and he doesn't like giving back the things he's taken – unless somebeast absolutely needs it. Cheerful and warm towards dibbuns, gentlemanly towards females, respectful of beasts of battle and authority, Killian does not quickly forget the hospitality of others. This silver-tongued, sharp-eyed sable makes it quite hard for you to dislike him, and trying to hate a creature who's seemingly done nothing wrong could very well be your undoing. No sooner will you turn the other cheek than have all of your family valuables taken right from under your nose!
At least try to look on the bright side; he'd been a wonderful drinking buddy and a creature of manners while he'd been here.
Strengths:
Charming, calculating and noticeably bright. Killian's an intelligent creature who rarely goes into the midst of things without a plan. He's a very skilled pick-pocket, thief and liar to the point of renown. If he were to ever try a weapon, it would probably be the bow that Killian could actually learn to use. His eyesight, hearing and sense of smell are impeccable. He's a con-artist at the level of being a public danger (Well, a danger to your valuables, more like it).
Weaknesses:
Sometimes obsessive in wanting the things he cannot have, Killian can push things too far. He's also a lousy fighter; he knows enough to swing a sword at someone if you want to hit them, but that is the beginning and the end of his battle skills. He doesn't take rejection of any kind well. He is sometimes childish and disobedient to any kind of lawful or superior authority. Killian longs for the finer things in life, and this, sometimes, results in him getting in way over his head.
History:
1 to 5 Years: Killian was born to Verdana Thorneye and Rurik the Savage – the first being a thief of sorts, the latter a warlord with a reputation to uphold. Killian was the second child of Verdana's, her first being a seven-year-old daughter by the name of Zibellina – a ruthless female who would soon follow in her father's bloodstained footsteps. Rurik, being no real father figure, felt no need to stick around after Killian's birth, (the sablekit having been born in the ruins of Fort Marshank in the Northlands) Rurik the Savage returned to the Land of Ice and Snow. Zibellina tried to follow him, but a sharp tongue-lashing from the cruel, cold-hearted sable kept her tethered to her mother's side for a little while longer. Killian spent the first few years of his life under Verdana's care, until she decided that visiting her sister on the outskirts of Mossflower was a good idea.
It was a smart decision, actually, as Rurik was causing trouble in the Northlands, and battles were brewing a little too close to home. Time to visit Auntie Ripfang. Halfway through the trip, Verdana encountered a bit of trouble; after camping for the night in some unnamed territory between Marshank and Mossflower, the now 12-year-old Zibellina abandoned her family to join Rurik in whatever silly crusade he was causing. Verdana ultimately determined that it was too much hassle to go after her, and settled on continuing to her intended destination.
It was on the edge of Mossflower Wood that Verdana's journey ended. Encountering a band of rogue vermin of the nastiest kind, a lone female sable against a small group of hordebeasts didn't bode well for the female sable. After killing her and robbing her of the food and supplies she'd been carrying, the horde left, completely ignoring the five year old sablekit she'd been carrying. He spent the night crying himself to sleep. It was early the next morning that Mrs. Cloggs, a cheerful, old hedgehog, found him.
6 to 11 Years:
She treated him as she'd treat her own precious hogbabes, and enjoyed the little one's company greatly – all of her offspring having grown and moved away a long time ago. It was safe to say that Killian, now in a stable environment, flourished under Old Mrs. Cloggs' care, even to the point of great feats of mischief. Killian has always been quite colorful with his lies, every time Mrs. Cloggs would ask him who ate the last of the Cherry Crumb Cake, and had once painted her a picture of a rogue domestic cat wandering in through the front door to eat her Cherry Crumb Cake, and then vanished without a word – not even bothering to use a plate. Of course, Killian would've destroyed all evidence against HIM by that point, so it was no surprise that Mrs. Cloggs' found no evidence of a dirty dish or fork anywhere, and with some carefully laid, cat-shaped pawprints across the floor of their humble abode, Killian's story seemed all the more likely still. But Mrs. Cloggs knew better. Even if he presented to her the most convincing argument known to bird and beast that he was innocent, Mrs. Cloggs could see right through it. “A mother's intuition”, she called it, and Killian didn't feel quite so frustrated that she never believed him.
Of course, his constant 'fibbing' was all just for sport really, but what really inspired his thieving, con-artist ways was the arrival of “Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players”, or “Charlemagne's Players”, for short. A group of anywhere from 11-21 members depending on the season or personal circumstances of the members, Charlemagne's Players showed up every year under invitation of Mrs. Cloggs. Killian was fascinated with them entirely, particularly their ring-leader, a dangerously charming otter by the name of Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes (Self-titled) – who did indeed, possess green eyes. It was as if it was a clue to his overall uniqueness, the green eyes, for they had not been a normal shade of green. Almost a luminescent pine-green, they had a way of swallowing up the young Killian and not letting him go – not even for a second. Perhaps he saw potential in young Killian? Perhaps he saw a bit of himself in the bright-eyed, mischievous young sable? Or perhaps he knew of the hardships the kind-hearted creature would face because of what he was, and wished to prepare him for it? Whatever the case, the charming, roguish character of Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes took a strong liking to the dark-furred scoundrel, and the two got along swimmingly.
The first of many of Charlemagne's “Life Lessons” was pickpocketing, much to Mrs. Coggs' horror, but Sir Charlemagne would only wink at her with his despicably infectious smile, saying “It's all in good fun Mrs. Coggs, all in good fun.” Knowing full well the nature of his character, Mrs. Coggs let it continue, the teaching of the sable by the self-appointed otter king of liars and vagabonds and con-artists most skilled. It was at age 11 that Mrs. Coggs finally allowed him to join Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players, but it was with reluctance that she let him go. “Take good care of him, Sir Charlemagne, or else I'll have your tail, your tongue and whatever else you hold dear!” It was quite a threat, even by Charlemagne's standards, and with a swift and gentlemanly bow, the otter con-artist swore on his lying, cheating, stealing heart that he would keep Killian safe.
Oddly enough, Mrs. Coggs could trust him.
11 to 20 Years:
Now was the start of the young sable's life, and it was safe to assume that he flourished under the companionship of the theater troupe and Charlemagne's tutelage. Killian did not disappoint. It was to Charlemagne's delight that his pupil was the brightest student he'd ever had, surpassing even Connery, a silent but incredibly skilled squirrel who served as a member of the theater troupe – an acrobat of sorts, but much more than that.
20 to 27 Years:
Despite having lived in Mossflower Wood for some time now, Killian had not heard of Redwall Abbey – at least, not until Charlemagne began revealing bits and pieces of his past. The way the otter-thief went on about it, Killian quickly began to regard the place as legendary – a place where many things could be accomplished for the aspiring thief, con-artist or forger. However, Charlemagne made it very clear that no harm were to come to those Redwallers, or he'd see to it personally that he'd strip the fur from their backs and nail it to the Abbey's Gatehouse. Assuming Charlemagne's place of birth was Redwall Abbey, Killian was temporarily won over to leave the famous building and it's inhabitants alone – for now.
In those 7 years with “Charlemagne's Traveling Troupe of Players”, Killian learned more than he'd ever anticipated; it wasn't just Charlemagne who taught him the ways of the world either. There was a kindly mole, by the name of Mugsy Ironclaw, who really put into perspective Killian's place in this world – and why he must refuse to conform with the stereotypes all vermin faced in their lifetimes. His mole friend, with his funny way of speaking, had often been made fun of – by both vermin and good-beast alike; the kind creature often described how it felt to be stared at by those of another species. The first time Killian's 'uniqueness' really hit him as more of a curse than a blessing, was right along the same time Charlemagne and the Players pulled off their first big heist.
The heist in of itself was simply robbing a local band of vermin of their vittles, as the Players were quite low since their last visit to Mrs. Coggs – and Charlemagne absolutely refused to take from Redwall Abbey, or impose on the goodbeasts there as guests. Besides, he was always saying that his Players needed more practice in this sort of thing – you never know when it might come in handy, eh? This heist was Killian's first big mission. Being of a 'similar nature' to the vermin horde, as Charlemagne so delicately put it, Killian was sent in first to befriend them, distract them even, while the Traveling Players handled their parts of the plan. It was the sable's first real taste of vermin life – and let me tell you something, he hated every minute of it. He hated how easy it was for them to dismiss the idea that he was intelligent, creative, clever and most importantly, good. It was as if the idea of him being a good-beast was simply unfathomable, and therefore, the notion didn't even cross their tiny brains at all – not even a tiny flicker. It was a little hard for Killian to regress to the behaviors of vermin, and he remembered feeling a lump in his throat and a sense of alienation from everything he had come to learn and understand. Is this what I truly am? A vermin? Something to be feared, hated, sometimes admired – but never loved, and most certainly never welcomed.
It took a while for Killian to recover from his 'ordeal' as a genuine vermin, and Charlemagne, though he did not understand, was there as a shoulder for Killian to lean on most of the way.
27 to the Present:
At 27 years old, Killian was now going solo, having said his goodbyes to Charlemagne's Players, and sought his own destiny, experience and dreams elsewhere. His thirst for knowledge and understanding lead him far beyond Mossflower Wood – even farther than the Traveling Players and into territories and landscapes that lay unclaimed even to this day. He spent some time in the North, and it was there that he discovered his father, Rurik the Savage's death at the tyrant's own daughter's claws, Zebellina. Frightened of her but too proud to show it, Killian tiptoed around and behind the ruthless female tyrant, and took his skills elsewhere. First to Noonvale, where he made a substantial living as a forger – both of weapons, documents and anything of authenticity that he could really get his claws on. Of course, his illegal activities weren't always appreciated, and it wasn't long before he'd overstayed his welcome in Noonvale. Moving on from there, Killian approached the West Coast, and spent a great deal of time conning pirates, corsairs, slave-traders and thieves alike out of their valuables. He was even captain of a pirate-ship for a few days, but was quick to ditch that job (after dramatically faking his death and tying up any loose ends). Of course, there would always be a beast or two that recognized him – either vermin or good-creature, and it wasn't long until Killian's infamous reputation preceded him almost everywhere.
From time to time, Killian would run into “Charlemagne's Traveling Troupe of Players”, and would spend a good few days swapping stories and catching up on old times. Of course, one good-creature he never forgot to visit, was old Mrs. Coggs, who was, by now, very very elderly. It is because of her state of dependency that Killian has returned to Mossflower Wood – has returned home – once more.
Of course, Killian has never been the type of creature to sit idly by while taking care of his foster parent. Bored and far too young to be spending the next 5 years of his life taking care of an elderly hedgehog, Killian has set his sights on cracking a nut that's been troubling him for some time now.
Redwall Abbey.
So this is where his tale begins, and the notorious Con-Artist wishes to infiltrate the mighty red-stoned abbey to finally sate his curiosity once and for all. And perhaps take a trinket or two with him on the way out...
Relationships:
Mrs. Cloggs ~~ The old Hedgehog who raised him throughout much of his childhood & early adolescence.
Zibellina the Ruthless~~ A sister he's only met once, their lives took separate paths shortly after their birth. (The title of which, was earned seasons later after she joined her father in the Northlands)
Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes~~ The Otter-Ringleader of “Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players” and the one who taught Killian everything.
Other
Of course, some of you clever readers might wonder how Mrs. Coggs knew Killian's name despite the sable-kit being only 5 years old at the time of his discovery. The truth was, she didn't. Killian Blackmoor is a name forged by the sable's own clever tongue in a desperate attempt to get rid of his old, horrid name. Mrs. Coggs, without knowing the sable-kit's real name, had settled for calling him Denah, a name of which Killian thought had a funny, not-very-sophisticated-sounding ring to it. His birth name was Zobel Thorneye, a fact of which he never discovered until after he ran into old Auntie Ripfang a few years back.
Killian's theme song is: Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic. ^^
Gender: Male
Age: 30 Years
Species: Sable (Though he once convinced a very poor-sighted hedgehog that he was a Pygmy Squirrel, but that's beside the point)
Occupation: Con-Artist, Master Thief, and Forger.
Physical Appearance:
As expected, Killian displays the not-uncommon traits of an average sable: a deep, dark brown in color, (the darkest parts being along his back, legs and ears) an average height of about 18 inches (standing upright) with a strong, lean, upper-and-lower body complimentary of his constant fending for survival. His tail is about a half an inch longer than the average marten's; that being said, it's no wonder he has to be extra careful when closing doors, running through hedges and climbing fences. He may just leave part of himself behind! Killian's ears are small and more rounded for a sable, sitting a reasonable distance away from each other on either side of his head. Despite their size, he's honed his hearing abilities to superbness – and unfortunately for him, his hypersensitivity disables him from fallin asleep with ease. Black but soulful eyes instead if soulless, it's clear to anyone who gets a good look at him that he's not exactly an ordinary sable or vermin of Mossflower Wood. Though they're small like his ears, they seem to be lacking the ruthless, cold glassy look some vermin are particularly known for. His coat is made of a soft under-wool, a dense second layer of hair, and a longer top-coat – very good for keeping out the rain and the autumn chill.
His nose is a deep purplish black, darkest at the top, lightest at the part where it connects to his furry little upper lip, The hair on his chin is actually white in collar, as with a diamond-shape patch of white on his thin but muscled chest. Interestingly enough, along with particularly sensitive ears, Killian's nose is the stuff of legends; able to sniff out the best quality wines, drinks, punches and any other kind of liquid beverage, Killian fancies himself a bit of a connoisseur of sorts. Interesting fact; the fur of a sable is much softer and silkier than the American Marten, if anyone was wondering...The dibbuns and females of his species find it rather inviting. In spite of having a sensitive nose, bright, warm black eyes and extremely sensitive ears, what seems to be lacking in his appearance, are his claws. Having not torn into actual animal flesh or bore the red tinge of blood, they're as pearly white as a newborn's. Sharp but unused, they give off the appearance of being quite a nasty little weapon for Killian – but he has his reasons for not using them.
There is a noticeable cleanliness about Killian that's a little hard to understand; being of a species that can be classified as 'vermin most foul', this has to be some kind of quirk in his personality rather than genetic deformity. Killian is obviously not your average sable; with a face that doesn't really cry 'bloodthirsty murderer' but more of 'honest traveler or merchant', Killian is a bit easier to trust in comparison to most vermin. All about “keeping appearances”, Killian dresses as though he spends money he doesn't exactly have. Usually adorned in a loose white cotton shirt, a sage-green waistcoat with a darker silk backing, black trousers and on occasion, a feathered Cavalier's hat with the feather of a quail or blue-jay. The blouse, though made of cotton, has quite a bit of handsome cross embroidery along the collar, with the neckline dropping into a semi-deep V that's nearly half the length of his chest. There's a hook and eye closure on the collar that he never uses. The sleeves are very loose (it's a lot of wasted fabric to him, but no one asked for his opinion), but end in close-fitting cuffs at his wrists.
As for his trousers, though they aren't as detailed as the blouse, he prefers them to the pants he'd had before. They had been some kind of noblebeast's trousers; black knee britches with a royal satin-like finish. But the problem was the button-up front and lace-up back with laced calves; Killian is not a patient beast, and hates to have to fiddle with all of those strings and buttons and whatchamacallits every time 'nature calls'. On occasion, (or rather, when he knows he's crossing into dangerous territory or into a hostile situation) Killian wears a small chain-mail vest in between the blouse and waist-coat. Though the likelihood of him getting into a fight is slim, it's in Killian's character to be prepared, even for the worst.
Possessions
Somewhere on his person is a small, homemade lock-picking kit, a silver wine corkscrew, a beautifully engraved flask of his drink of choice, a knife he has no idea how to use, and a hastily drawn map he won in a card game. Killian also carries a small knapsack that, on occasion, carries his chain-mail vest and two weeks' worth of food, if he can manage.
Personality:
~~~~~~~Liar, Liar, Pants on Fire!~~~~~~~
Killian is about as trustworthy as a one-eyed badger in a poker game with everything to lose; however, you can always trust him to be..er...untrustworthy. Well, usually. A silver-tongued devil this sable doth make, his words are his weapon, his select set of skills his shield, and the means by which he makes a living. A certified liar, Killian could argue a bat into thinking it was just a very confused bird – or a flying squirrel even. He could probably convince a very slow-thinking lizard that it was actually a dog, and get it to bark a few times – but don't tempt him. Despite having such a, er, talent for weaving fantastic tales and excuses that not even the strictest beast could find fault with, Killian does know where to draw the line.
In his defense, he has always been honest with friends – well, he would be if he had any.
~~~~~~I Double-Dog Dare Ya!~~~~~~
No creature in their right mind would dare him to do anything. Fiercely competitive, Killian has difficulty saying no to a challenge – especially if it's within his range of skills and credited abilities. Of course, when Killian completes a challenge, it often comes with a well-phrased remark or word of 'advice' to the creature who challenged him – Killian tending to make a spectacle of those he doesn't really like.
~~~~~Charmingly Deceptive~~~~~~
A sable with a bright, creative mind on top of his shoulders, Killian has a knack for riddles, puzzles and anything else that might prove difficult to others. Charming, polite, sophisticated and seemingly possessing an actual moral code (despite it's twisted quality), Killian makes it clear from the very first firm pawshake that he's a beast you're going to want to know. Smart, eloquent in speech and self-confident, he's the kind of creature that others look up or are immediately drawn to – a very charismatic quality about Mr. Killian Perle... Or, er, whatever you want to call him. What's hard for most good and bad creatures to understand is Killian's loneliness; outcast by those of his own species and other vermin alike, he is never fully trusted by decent creatures because of his looks. Well, if they knew the truth, they probably would've trusted him even less than they normally do; assuming that others won't really care much for the real Killian Perle, he often settles for putting on airs and fancy covers to give creatures what they want. If they want a gentlebeast, then that's what he'll be. He does a damn fine job of it too, if he does say so himself.
He's almost too good at it, and may've forgotten what it's really like to be himself. Now...about his moral code. Killian is a vegetarian (with the exception of fish and most sea foods), and hates the idea of harming another creature either out of self defense or sheer cruelty. There's something about his personality that is not hardwired to fight, rip or tear; his claws are unused because he doesn't really know how to use them apart from tinkering and picking locks. Merciful and sympathetic, he doesn't like to see other creatures get hurt – good or bad, though he's steeled himself to the mauling of bad creatures, knowing perfectly well that some of them probably deserve it. However, Killian makes certain that he's never the judge, jury and executioner. For one, he cannot handle that kind of decision, and if he were to make a decision, it would weigh heavily on his conscience from now until his death day. Two, he doesn't like to get involved in those kinds of arguments. Sure, he'll speak up in defense of someone who is clearly innocent, but he tries to stay as politically indifferent as possible.
His sense of justice is a little off. Thinking that he himself is just outside of the law, he reacts childishly when he is finally made to pay for some of his crimes. Killian doesn't like losing, and he doesn't like giving back the things he's taken – unless somebeast absolutely needs it. Cheerful and warm towards dibbuns, gentlemanly towards females, respectful of beasts of battle and authority, Killian does not quickly forget the hospitality of others. This silver-tongued, sharp-eyed sable makes it quite hard for you to dislike him, and trying to hate a creature who's seemingly done nothing wrong could very well be your undoing. No sooner will you turn the other cheek than have all of your family valuables taken right from under your nose!
At least try to look on the bright side; he'd been a wonderful drinking buddy and a creature of manners while he'd been here.
Strengths:
Charming, calculating and noticeably bright. Killian's an intelligent creature who rarely goes into the midst of things without a plan. He's a very skilled pick-pocket, thief and liar to the point of renown. If he were to ever try a weapon, it would probably be the bow that Killian could actually learn to use. His eyesight, hearing and sense of smell are impeccable. He's a con-artist at the level of being a public danger (Well, a danger to your valuables, more like it).
Weaknesses:
Sometimes obsessive in wanting the things he cannot have, Killian can push things too far. He's also a lousy fighter; he knows enough to swing a sword at someone if you want to hit them, but that is the beginning and the end of his battle skills. He doesn't take rejection of any kind well. He is sometimes childish and disobedient to any kind of lawful or superior authority. Killian longs for the finer things in life, and this, sometimes, results in him getting in way over his head.
History:
1 to 5 Years: Killian was born to Verdana Thorneye and Rurik the Savage – the first being a thief of sorts, the latter a warlord with a reputation to uphold. Killian was the second child of Verdana's, her first being a seven-year-old daughter by the name of Zibellina – a ruthless female who would soon follow in her father's bloodstained footsteps. Rurik, being no real father figure, felt no need to stick around after Killian's birth, (the sablekit having been born in the ruins of Fort Marshank in the Northlands) Rurik the Savage returned to the Land of Ice and Snow. Zibellina tried to follow him, but a sharp tongue-lashing from the cruel, cold-hearted sable kept her tethered to her mother's side for a little while longer. Killian spent the first few years of his life under Verdana's care, until she decided that visiting her sister on the outskirts of Mossflower was a good idea.
It was a smart decision, actually, as Rurik was causing trouble in the Northlands, and battles were brewing a little too close to home. Time to visit Auntie Ripfang. Halfway through the trip, Verdana encountered a bit of trouble; after camping for the night in some unnamed territory between Marshank and Mossflower, the now 12-year-old Zibellina abandoned her family to join Rurik in whatever silly crusade he was causing. Verdana ultimately determined that it was too much hassle to go after her, and settled on continuing to her intended destination.
It was on the edge of Mossflower Wood that Verdana's journey ended. Encountering a band of rogue vermin of the nastiest kind, a lone female sable against a small group of hordebeasts didn't bode well for the female sable. After killing her and robbing her of the food and supplies she'd been carrying, the horde left, completely ignoring the five year old sablekit she'd been carrying. He spent the night crying himself to sleep. It was early the next morning that Mrs. Cloggs, a cheerful, old hedgehog, found him.
6 to 11 Years:
She treated him as she'd treat her own precious hogbabes, and enjoyed the little one's company greatly – all of her offspring having grown and moved away a long time ago. It was safe to say that Killian, now in a stable environment, flourished under Old Mrs. Cloggs' care, even to the point of great feats of mischief. Killian has always been quite colorful with his lies, every time Mrs. Cloggs would ask him who ate the last of the Cherry Crumb Cake, and had once painted her a picture of a rogue domestic cat wandering in through the front door to eat her Cherry Crumb Cake, and then vanished without a word – not even bothering to use a plate. Of course, Killian would've destroyed all evidence against HIM by that point, so it was no surprise that Mrs. Cloggs' found no evidence of a dirty dish or fork anywhere, and with some carefully laid, cat-shaped pawprints across the floor of their humble abode, Killian's story seemed all the more likely still. But Mrs. Cloggs knew better. Even if he presented to her the most convincing argument known to bird and beast that he was innocent, Mrs. Cloggs could see right through it. “A mother's intuition”, she called it, and Killian didn't feel quite so frustrated that she never believed him.
Of course, his constant 'fibbing' was all just for sport really, but what really inspired his thieving, con-artist ways was the arrival of “Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players”, or “Charlemagne's Players”, for short. A group of anywhere from 11-21 members depending on the season or personal circumstances of the members, Charlemagne's Players showed up every year under invitation of Mrs. Cloggs. Killian was fascinated with them entirely, particularly their ring-leader, a dangerously charming otter by the name of Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes (Self-titled) – who did indeed, possess green eyes. It was as if it was a clue to his overall uniqueness, the green eyes, for they had not been a normal shade of green. Almost a luminescent pine-green, they had a way of swallowing up the young Killian and not letting him go – not even for a second. Perhaps he saw potential in young Killian? Perhaps he saw a bit of himself in the bright-eyed, mischievous young sable? Or perhaps he knew of the hardships the kind-hearted creature would face because of what he was, and wished to prepare him for it? Whatever the case, the charming, roguish character of Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes took a strong liking to the dark-furred scoundrel, and the two got along swimmingly.
The first of many of Charlemagne's “Life Lessons” was pickpocketing, much to Mrs. Coggs' horror, but Sir Charlemagne would only wink at her with his despicably infectious smile, saying “It's all in good fun Mrs. Coggs, all in good fun.” Knowing full well the nature of his character, Mrs. Coggs let it continue, the teaching of the sable by the self-appointed otter king of liars and vagabonds and con-artists most skilled. It was at age 11 that Mrs. Coggs finally allowed him to join Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players, but it was with reluctance that she let him go. “Take good care of him, Sir Charlemagne, or else I'll have your tail, your tongue and whatever else you hold dear!” It was quite a threat, even by Charlemagne's standards, and with a swift and gentlemanly bow, the otter con-artist swore on his lying, cheating, stealing heart that he would keep Killian safe.
Oddly enough, Mrs. Coggs could trust him.
11 to 20 Years:
Now was the start of the young sable's life, and it was safe to assume that he flourished under the companionship of the theater troupe and Charlemagne's tutelage. Killian did not disappoint. It was to Charlemagne's delight that his pupil was the brightest student he'd ever had, surpassing even Connery, a silent but incredibly skilled squirrel who served as a member of the theater troupe – an acrobat of sorts, but much more than that.
20 to 27 Years:
Despite having lived in Mossflower Wood for some time now, Killian had not heard of Redwall Abbey – at least, not until Charlemagne began revealing bits and pieces of his past. The way the otter-thief went on about it, Killian quickly began to regard the place as legendary – a place where many things could be accomplished for the aspiring thief, con-artist or forger. However, Charlemagne made it very clear that no harm were to come to those Redwallers, or he'd see to it personally that he'd strip the fur from their backs and nail it to the Abbey's Gatehouse. Assuming Charlemagne's place of birth was Redwall Abbey, Killian was temporarily won over to leave the famous building and it's inhabitants alone – for now.
In those 7 years with “Charlemagne's Traveling Troupe of Players”, Killian learned more than he'd ever anticipated; it wasn't just Charlemagne who taught him the ways of the world either. There was a kindly mole, by the name of Mugsy Ironclaw, who really put into perspective Killian's place in this world – and why he must refuse to conform with the stereotypes all vermin faced in their lifetimes. His mole friend, with his funny way of speaking, had often been made fun of – by both vermin and good-beast alike; the kind creature often described how it felt to be stared at by those of another species. The first time Killian's 'uniqueness' really hit him as more of a curse than a blessing, was right along the same time Charlemagne and the Players pulled off their first big heist.
The heist in of itself was simply robbing a local band of vermin of their vittles, as the Players were quite low since their last visit to Mrs. Coggs – and Charlemagne absolutely refused to take from Redwall Abbey, or impose on the goodbeasts there as guests. Besides, he was always saying that his Players needed more practice in this sort of thing – you never know when it might come in handy, eh? This heist was Killian's first big mission. Being of a 'similar nature' to the vermin horde, as Charlemagne so delicately put it, Killian was sent in first to befriend them, distract them even, while the Traveling Players handled their parts of the plan. It was the sable's first real taste of vermin life – and let me tell you something, he hated every minute of it. He hated how easy it was for them to dismiss the idea that he was intelligent, creative, clever and most importantly, good. It was as if the idea of him being a good-beast was simply unfathomable, and therefore, the notion didn't even cross their tiny brains at all – not even a tiny flicker. It was a little hard for Killian to regress to the behaviors of vermin, and he remembered feeling a lump in his throat and a sense of alienation from everything he had come to learn and understand. Is this what I truly am? A vermin? Something to be feared, hated, sometimes admired – but never loved, and most certainly never welcomed.
It took a while for Killian to recover from his 'ordeal' as a genuine vermin, and Charlemagne, though he did not understand, was there as a shoulder for Killian to lean on most of the way.
27 to the Present:
At 27 years old, Killian was now going solo, having said his goodbyes to Charlemagne's Players, and sought his own destiny, experience and dreams elsewhere. His thirst for knowledge and understanding lead him far beyond Mossflower Wood – even farther than the Traveling Players and into territories and landscapes that lay unclaimed even to this day. He spent some time in the North, and it was there that he discovered his father, Rurik the Savage's death at the tyrant's own daughter's claws, Zebellina. Frightened of her but too proud to show it, Killian tiptoed around and behind the ruthless female tyrant, and took his skills elsewhere. First to Noonvale, where he made a substantial living as a forger – both of weapons, documents and anything of authenticity that he could really get his claws on. Of course, his illegal activities weren't always appreciated, and it wasn't long before he'd overstayed his welcome in Noonvale. Moving on from there, Killian approached the West Coast, and spent a great deal of time conning pirates, corsairs, slave-traders and thieves alike out of their valuables. He was even captain of a pirate-ship for a few days, but was quick to ditch that job (after dramatically faking his death and tying up any loose ends). Of course, there would always be a beast or two that recognized him – either vermin or good-creature, and it wasn't long until Killian's infamous reputation preceded him almost everywhere.
From time to time, Killian would run into “Charlemagne's Traveling Troupe of Players”, and would spend a good few days swapping stories and catching up on old times. Of course, one good-creature he never forgot to visit, was old Mrs. Coggs, who was, by now, very very elderly. It is because of her state of dependency that Killian has returned to Mossflower Wood – has returned home – once more.
Of course, Killian has never been the type of creature to sit idly by while taking care of his foster parent. Bored and far too young to be spending the next 5 years of his life taking care of an elderly hedgehog, Killian has set his sights on cracking a nut that's been troubling him for some time now.
Redwall Abbey.
So this is where his tale begins, and the notorious Con-Artist wishes to infiltrate the mighty red-stoned abbey to finally sate his curiosity once and for all. And perhaps take a trinket or two with him on the way out...
Relationships:
Mrs. Cloggs ~~ The old Hedgehog who raised him throughout much of his childhood & early adolescence.
Zibellina the Ruthless~~ A sister he's only met once, their lives took separate paths shortly after their birth. (The title of which, was earned seasons later after she joined her father in the Northlands)
Sir Charlemagne Greeneyes~~ The Otter-Ringleader of “Charlemagne's Troupe of Traveling Players” and the one who taught Killian everything.
Other
Of course, some of you clever readers might wonder how Mrs. Coggs knew Killian's name despite the sable-kit being only 5 years old at the time of his discovery. The truth was, she didn't. Killian Blackmoor is a name forged by the sable's own clever tongue in a desperate attempt to get rid of his old, horrid name. Mrs. Coggs, without knowing the sable-kit's real name, had settled for calling him Denah, a name of which Killian thought had a funny, not-very-sophisticated-sounding ring to it. His birth name was Zobel Thorneye, a fact of which he never discovered until after he ran into old Auntie Ripfang a few years back.
Killian's theme song is: Everybody Loves Me by OneRepublic. ^^
