Post by obe on Nov 16, 2011 14:20:49 GMT -5
Name: Marshall Russet "Russ" Treefleet
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Species: Squirrel
Occupation:Son of a rich guy Nephew-Prince of the Squirrelking of Southsward
Physical Appearance:
Russ stands shorter than most squirrels his age, though he is loathe to admit it. Therefore, he does not. His case is not helped a bit by his muscles, or lack thereof. Indeed, Marshall Russet Treefleet is a scrawny little squirrel-thing, but his mother loves him anyway. Which is good, because nobody else does.
Now, Russ, though lacking in the Big'n'Brawny Department, does possess a rather handsome face. It's a shame the rest of him couldn't be quite so attractive. But! C'est la vie.
The eyes with which he gawks at things are a beautiful hue, a sort of cerulean with but a hint of indigo in the center. It creates the impression of a cascade of deep, clean water bursting forth from the spring that is his pupil. Much more pleasant than the drivel spewing from his mouth. Now, his lips are quite thin, but no so much as to give him the appearance of a puppet or a mannequin. No, that job belongs to his clothing.
Russ' silky grey fur constantly finds itself shaded from the sun, hidden under mounds of expensive fabric. He is always dressed up all fancy-like, because he is royalty. He is pretty much never the one who gets to choose what he is to wear today, because that is his mother's department, and she shan't relinquish it without unleashing her wrath on the world. So, for the good of us all, Russ wears whatever outfit she picks out for him. Unfortunately, that outfit is almost definitely colored lavender, and it probably smells like it too. Russ mother loves the color and smell of lavender, and since she can't get her daughter to wear it, she imposes it on her poor little son. But don't be shy; we're all laughing at him too.
Possessions:
Russ owns many, many...manymanymanymany things, because he is rich. And honestly, I don't want to list them all. So, let's just save some time, shall we? He is a prince who lives in Castle Floret and owns whatever princes in Castle Floret would.
One notable "possession" of his is a butler, whom he has named Clarisse. No one really knows the otter's actual name, so they all just call him Clarisse. Clarisse is a fine young man who has managed, on more than one occasion, to get Russ to work. Physically. We all applaud Clarisse's efforts.
Another notable possession of Russ' is a stack of a books. This stack continues to grow taller as Russ writes down every conceivable imagining that passes through his little skull. Each journal is an interesting read, though, due to Russ' work ethic, none of the stories are actually finished (and the ones that are...suck).
And finally, Russ owns a key. It is an old, rusty key that he found just lying there in the dirt one day. He has absolutely no idea whose the key once was, nor to what lock it belongs. He does, however, know that there is not a single door on the planet that he will not test it on. If Russ sees a lock, Russ will invariably attempt to unlock it. What a polite little devil child...
Personality:
Russ shows all the signs of a spoiled brat. He believes that time is HIS. One might contend that time belongs to nobeast, but Russ would disrespectfully disagree. Furthermore, if there is a problem, he always finds someone to blame, so long as that someone is not himself. He sees little value in personal relationships, so long as he gets what he wants when he wants it, and if he could do away with that limiting agent known commonly as "space," he would.
Russ simply must be unique, must be different. He will not conform to any common pattern, if he can help it. Consistency is for commoners. He even paces his footsteps so that his do not match those of anybeast else within eyesight/earshot. As stupid and prideful and stupid as that might be, he is highly creative as a result. His ability to take an idea and turn it on its head is astounding. What goes on in that little head of his oft leaves other beasts tilting their own. He is, though we are all loathe to admit it, an enigmatic genius.
The problem here is not that he is a genius, but that he is a genius, and he knows it. And he is more than willing to share his unparallelled wit with you, particularly if some sort of applause follows. In fact, this the only thing of value in his possession that Russ will share. Because Russ likes stuff. Now, despite Russ' incredible intellect, the squirrel really has no common sense whatsoever. He has never needed it, you see. He has been educated, but only in silly things, such as mathematics, the sciences, and the humanities. Nobeast has ever actually taught him how to survive, or even how to think, for that matter. Using the brain God gave him was something he had to learn on his own, and he's not a very good teacher.
Surprisingly, however, Russ possesses an unusual amount of compassion, especially for such a selfish little demon-child. This is likely due to the overwhelming number of books and stories he has read or heard, for both cases present an opportunity for him to step into another beast's shoes, though only in his mind. And as any avid reader would attest, an addiction to stories leads to much pondering, specifically the pondering of what it would be like to live as someone else. This leads Russ to ponder what it would be like to live as one of the servants in his home, or one of the guards, or even one of the birds that soar overhead. There is a curiosity in this young squirrel that cannot be quenched by the monotony of his limited reality.
There is something different about Marshall Russet Treefleet. You see, he is the sort of squirrel who can remain still for hours on end, seemingly doing nothing. He does this often, in fact, and it occasionally causes him to fall into a deep slumber. You see, there is more going on behind those eyes than one might notice in passing.
Russ has built for himself another reality entirely. And it all exists inside his mind. It is a self-imposed dream, a lucid imagining that is nearly as intricate and realistic as the world around him. Russ, when given time to himself in his room, sits in a small chair and sinks, drifts slowly away into his own reality, where he can build endlessly on the nature that he has created. What is truly fascinating about his imagination, however, is the amount of detail that he has attended to. Everything is generated directly from his mind, down to the smallest blade of grass. Even the dust that settles on some of his older creation is there by intention. His intention. Buildings of varying size and shape are his to explore, and vast, creative landscapes are there for his many imagined adventures. And the setting changes according to the story he decides to create. Countless imaginary beasts have lived and fought and died in his mind, and countless more will do the same.
Now, Russ simply does not understand why other beasts do not indulge in the imagination to the extent that he does. Because it is, to him, the most addictive and wonderful thing a beast could invest his time in. It is creation, in the purest, most essential form. But Russ must be reminded that not everybeast has time to waste. In fact, most beasts work all day in order to feed themselves, leaving them no time at all to simply sit and imagine. But Russ does not understand this at all, for he is constantly constructing some new mountain or piecing together a new story, even when he is physically active. He imagines every boring thing as something else, such as his chores (which he never actually does), and he has no trouble keeping up with both realities at once. Even when he is not consciously designing new creations, his mind is building them. The truth is, Russ is not your normal squirrel. His mind works at an alarming rate.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
History:He was born, he lived a while, and he was rich a lot. The End.
Marshall Russet Treefleet was born sixteen years ago on sunny day, blah, blah, blah, nobody really cares. Since that day, more commonly referred to as "D-Day," Russ has continued to be just as much a pain to his mother as he was then. Her, and everybody else, for that matter. Yes, do pity them. Pity them all.
As a squirrelbabe with the ability to speak such sophisticated phrases as "gah daba glog," Russ was known for his screaming. For a good while, he was known to most as "that little banshee." And indeed, his incessant screaming would haunt those within earshot and ultimately drive them mad. Unfortunately, he could not walk through walls, but only because he could not walk yet.
A few seasons later, Russ had grown a bit older and could now walk. But he could not walk through walls. He would still scream and then stop, waddle over to the other side of the room, play with blocks for a little while, stop, stand up, turn around, waddle back, and resume screaming. At this time, Russ' parents dealt with this assault of the eardrums by giving Russ everything he wanted, because. . . money.
Eventually, Russ "grew up" a little more and became a "teenager." His parents tried to get him to play with the other little brats his age, but middle-class squirrels do not enjoy the presence of upper-class squirrels, particularly when the latter mistake the former for servants. (Russ says it was no mistake.) Russ returned to the castle (the freaking castle!) with a black eye and a veritable shipload of complaints for his parents.
Now, Russ' parents were generally just terrible at parenting. As far as Russ knew, Russ could not fail at anything. Even when he was merely losing a little game, his parents would ensure that there was a tie and declare, "We're all winners!" because they were afraid of hurting their child's self-esteem.
Well, that backfired.
Turns out, Russ was a genius. He found himself bored when having to learn from the owl-butler whom his parents had given the responsibility of teaching Russ things like mathematics and science and proper spellling. Russ learned all of this with surprising speed and was immediately rewarded with boredom. One day, he was so bored that he ran away from home for a week and invented calculus because the mathematics he had were not good enough to serve his purposes. He returned only to learn calculus in school. Stupid owl stole his idea.
For "countless" seasons, Russ chose to use his powers not for good, not for bad, but for stupid. He played chess with anybeast who would humor him. He solved riddles in an instant and followed up with a riddle of his own, a riddle that made sense to nobody besides himself. He conned money out of the treasurer just because he could. He learned how to hypnotize beasts and proceeded to hypnotize everyone who came to his room -- by the time his parent caught on, he had collected eighteen living statues in his room.
Now, since the age of twelve, Russ has been writing stories. He fell in love with it instantly. For the past four years, he has been building an alternate reality in his mind. It is here that he goes to escape the real reality, at which he bites his thumb.
Last year, Russ' parents hired a new butler to watch over Russ. The butler, who is but a year older than Russ, came to be known as Clarisse, and while the young otter resents the name, he has proven himself an excellent influence on Russ. Clarisse has managed not only to get Russ to actually work, but he has also done what nobeast ever dared attempt before -- put Russ in his place.
At first, Russ' parents were concerned that Clarisse was too rough for Russ, but ever since Russ started saying things like "Thank you," and "Excuse me," they have expressed their eternal thanks to the young otter.
Relationships:
Barthos Treefleet - Father (and brother of the Squirrelking)
Jayne Treefleet - Mother
Amelia Treefleet - Sister
Russ has no friends. Except Clarisse, whom Russ allegedly hates, ever since the Cheese-Wheel Incident. (But secretly, Russ admires Clarisse....You didn't hear it from me.)
Other:
There is a reason Russ' sister is not mentioned anywhere in his history. I'll get to that with the next bio.
Gender: Male
Age: 16
Species: Squirrel
Occupation:
Physical Appearance:
Russ stands shorter than most squirrels his age, though he is loathe to admit it. Therefore, he does not. His case is not helped a bit by his muscles, or lack thereof. Indeed, Marshall Russet Treefleet is a scrawny little squirrel-thing, but his mother loves him anyway. Which is good, because nobody else does.
Now, Russ, though lacking in the Big'n'Brawny Department, does possess a rather handsome face. It's a shame the rest of him couldn't be quite so attractive. But! C'est la vie.
The eyes with which he gawks at things are a beautiful hue, a sort of cerulean with but a hint of indigo in the center. It creates the impression of a cascade of deep, clean water bursting forth from the spring that is his pupil. Much more pleasant than the drivel spewing from his mouth. Now, his lips are quite thin, but no so much as to give him the appearance of a puppet or a mannequin. No, that job belongs to his clothing.
Russ' silky grey fur constantly finds itself shaded from the sun, hidden under mounds of expensive fabric. He is always dressed up all fancy-like, because he is royalty. He is pretty much never the one who gets to choose what he is to wear today, because that is his mother's department, and she shan't relinquish it without unleashing her wrath on the world. So, for the good of us all, Russ wears whatever outfit she picks out for him. Unfortunately, that outfit is almost definitely colored lavender, and it probably smells like it too. Russ mother loves the color and smell of lavender, and since she can't get her daughter to wear it, she imposes it on her poor little son. But don't be shy; we're all laughing at him too.
Possessions:
Russ owns many, many...manymanymanymany things, because he is rich. And honestly, I don't want to list them all. So, let's just save some time, shall we? He is a prince who lives in Castle Floret and owns whatever princes in Castle Floret would.
One notable "possession" of his is a butler, whom he has named Clarisse. No one really knows the otter's actual name, so they all just call him Clarisse. Clarisse is a fine young man who has managed, on more than one occasion, to get Russ to work. Physically. We all applaud Clarisse's efforts.
Another notable possession of Russ' is a stack of a books. This stack continues to grow taller as Russ writes down every conceivable imagining that passes through his little skull. Each journal is an interesting read, though, due to Russ' work ethic, none of the stories are actually finished (and the ones that are...suck).
And finally, Russ owns a key. It is an old, rusty key that he found just lying there in the dirt one day. He has absolutely no idea whose the key once was, nor to what lock it belongs. He does, however, know that there is not a single door on the planet that he will not test it on. If Russ sees a lock, Russ will invariably attempt to unlock it. What a polite little devil child...
Personality:
Russ shows all the signs of a spoiled brat. He believes that time is HIS. One might contend that time belongs to nobeast, but Russ would disrespectfully disagree. Furthermore, if there is a problem, he always finds someone to blame, so long as that someone is not himself. He sees little value in personal relationships, so long as he gets what he wants when he wants it, and if he could do away with that limiting agent known commonly as "space," he would.
Russ simply must be unique, must be different. He will not conform to any common pattern, if he can help it. Consistency is for commoners. He even paces his footsteps so that his do not match those of anybeast else within eyesight/earshot. As stupid and prideful and stupid as that might be, he is highly creative as a result. His ability to take an idea and turn it on its head is astounding. What goes on in that little head of his oft leaves other beasts tilting their own. He is, though we are all loathe to admit it, an enigmatic genius.
The problem here is not that he is a genius, but that he is a genius, and he knows it. And he is more than willing to share his unparallelled wit with you, particularly if some sort of applause follows. In fact, this the only thing of value in his possession that Russ will share. Because Russ likes stuff. Now, despite Russ' incredible intellect, the squirrel really has no common sense whatsoever. He has never needed it, you see. He has been educated, but only in silly things, such as mathematics, the sciences, and the humanities. Nobeast has ever actually taught him how to survive, or even how to think, for that matter. Using the brain God gave him was something he had to learn on his own, and he's not a very good teacher.
Surprisingly, however, Russ possesses an unusual amount of compassion, especially for such a selfish little demon-child. This is likely due to the overwhelming number of books and stories he has read or heard, for both cases present an opportunity for him to step into another beast's shoes, though only in his mind. And as any avid reader would attest, an addiction to stories leads to much pondering, specifically the pondering of what it would be like to live as someone else. This leads Russ to ponder what it would be like to live as one of the servants in his home, or one of the guards, or even one of the birds that soar overhead. There is a curiosity in this young squirrel that cannot be quenched by the monotony of his limited reality.
There is something different about Marshall Russet Treefleet. You see, he is the sort of squirrel who can remain still for hours on end, seemingly doing nothing. He does this often, in fact, and it occasionally causes him to fall into a deep slumber. You see, there is more going on behind those eyes than one might notice in passing.
Russ has built for himself another reality entirely. And it all exists inside his mind. It is a self-imposed dream, a lucid imagining that is nearly as intricate and realistic as the world around him. Russ, when given time to himself in his room, sits in a small chair and sinks, drifts slowly away into his own reality, where he can build endlessly on the nature that he has created. What is truly fascinating about his imagination, however, is the amount of detail that he has attended to. Everything is generated directly from his mind, down to the smallest blade of grass. Even the dust that settles on some of his older creation is there by intention. His intention. Buildings of varying size and shape are his to explore, and vast, creative landscapes are there for his many imagined adventures. And the setting changes according to the story he decides to create. Countless imaginary beasts have lived and fought and died in his mind, and countless more will do the same.
Now, Russ simply does not understand why other beasts do not indulge in the imagination to the extent that he does. Because it is, to him, the most addictive and wonderful thing a beast could invest his time in. It is creation, in the purest, most essential form. But Russ must be reminded that not everybeast has time to waste. In fact, most beasts work all day in order to feed themselves, leaving them no time at all to simply sit and imagine. But Russ does not understand this at all, for he is constantly constructing some new mountain or piecing together a new story, even when he is physically active. He imagines every boring thing as something else, such as his chores (which he never actually does), and he has no trouble keeping up with both realities at once. Even when he is not consciously designing new creations, his mind is building them. The truth is, Russ is not your normal squirrel. His mind works at an alarming rate.
Strengths:
- Genius
- Masterful Storymaker
- Creative/Inventive
- Compassionate
Weaknesses:
- Weak
- Spoiled
- Over Emotional
- Whiny
- Not Used to Change
- Hypochondriac
- Hemophobic
- Perfectionist
- Materialist (to an extent)
History:
Marshall Russet Treefleet was born sixteen years ago on sunny day, blah, blah, blah, nobody really cares. Since that day, more commonly referred to as "D-Day," Russ has continued to be just as much a pain to his mother as he was then. Her, and everybody else, for that matter. Yes, do pity them. Pity them all.
As a squirrelbabe with the ability to speak such sophisticated phrases as "gah daba glog," Russ was known for his screaming. For a good while, he was known to most as "that little banshee." And indeed, his incessant screaming would haunt those within earshot and ultimately drive them mad. Unfortunately, he could not walk through walls, but only because he could not walk yet.
A few seasons later, Russ had grown a bit older and could now walk. But he could not walk through walls. He would still scream and then stop, waddle over to the other side of the room, play with blocks for a little while, stop, stand up, turn around, waddle back, and resume screaming. At this time, Russ' parents dealt with this assault of the eardrums by giving Russ everything he wanted, because. . . money.
Eventually, Russ "grew up" a little more and became a "teenager." His parents tried to get him to play with the other little brats his age, but middle-class squirrels do not enjoy the presence of upper-class squirrels, particularly when the latter mistake the former for servants. (Russ says it was no mistake.) Russ returned to the castle (the freaking castle!) with a black eye and a veritable shipload of complaints for his parents.
Now, Russ' parents were generally just terrible at parenting. As far as Russ knew, Russ could not fail at anything. Even when he was merely losing a little game, his parents would ensure that there was a tie and declare, "We're all winners!" because they were afraid of hurting their child's self-esteem.
Well, that backfired.
Turns out, Russ was a genius. He found himself bored when having to learn from the owl-butler whom his parents had given the responsibility of teaching Russ things like mathematics and science and proper spellling. Russ learned all of this with surprising speed and was immediately rewarded with boredom. One day, he was so bored that he ran away from home for a week and invented calculus because the mathematics he had were not good enough to serve his purposes. He returned only to learn calculus in school. Stupid owl stole his idea.
For "countless" seasons, Russ chose to use his powers not for good, not for bad, but for stupid. He played chess with anybeast who would humor him. He solved riddles in an instant and followed up with a riddle of his own, a riddle that made sense to nobody besides himself. He conned money out of the treasurer just because he could. He learned how to hypnotize beasts and proceeded to hypnotize everyone who came to his room -- by the time his parent caught on, he had collected eighteen living statues in his room.
Now, since the age of twelve, Russ has been writing stories. He fell in love with it instantly. For the past four years, he has been building an alternate reality in his mind. It is here that he goes to escape the real reality, at which he bites his thumb.
Last year, Russ' parents hired a new butler to watch over Russ. The butler, who is but a year older than Russ, came to be known as Clarisse, and while the young otter resents the name, he has proven himself an excellent influence on Russ. Clarisse has managed not only to get Russ to actually work, but he has also done what nobeast ever dared attempt before -- put Russ in his place.
At first, Russ' parents were concerned that Clarisse was too rough for Russ, but ever since Russ started saying things like "Thank you," and "Excuse me," they have expressed their eternal thanks to the young otter.
Relationships:
Barthos Treefleet - Father (and brother of the Squirrelking)
Jayne Treefleet - Mother
Amelia Treefleet - Sister
Russ has no friends. Except Clarisse, whom Russ allegedly hates, ever since the Cheese-Wheel Incident. (But secretly, Russ admires Clarisse....You didn't hear it from me.)
Other:
There is a reason Russ' sister is not mentioned anywhere in his history. I'll get to that with the next bio.
