Post by Wildrun on Nov 14, 2008 18:55:08 GMT -5
Name: Mapel 'White Quill' Wildrun
Gender: Female
Age: 17 (years), the same as her sister Oaklea
Species: Woodmouse.
Occupation: Loves to read, translates many languages and writes. Occasioanly plans fight strategies, currently traveling.
Physical Appearance: The exact same hieght as her sister, Mapel is niether short nor tall. Her tail is usually swishing along just off the ground behind her, as she's usually thinking about something deeply (or else just daydreaming). Her fur is slightly longer than middle length, and is a creamy white color (as in, not stark snow white, a softer shade than that). She has a solitary black spot just under her left ear, about perhaps the size of a pebble. Her ears are just infeseitamally smaller that average size, and her eyes are a dark brown color, the shade of very dark chocolate cake. She got a thin figure and looks slightly willowy, and the fur on her ears has the texture of fluff, for whatever reason. Her nose is a pale pink, which seems to match nicely with her cream fur. She has few scars, if any, that are noticable. Several small lines of silvery sheen appear around her paws and wrists, along with an inch-long tear out of the bottom edge of her left ear.
Always always always, a string of old and battered shells dangles around her neck and jingles against another loop of neckwear, adorned with some kind of faded stone. Tied much closer to the actual skin of her neck--indeed, it might even look like a collar to some people--is a braided, colorful string. Always accompanying it is a special charm in the shape of a 'W', but written in the style of some anceint runic language. Charms of all sorts adorn her everywhere, hanging from her neclaces, mized in the with shells and stones, or hanging from her light-weight travler's cloak. The cloak itself is an eddy of bright rustic red and yellow-gold, swirled as though the paints red and gold had been twirled together, but not mixed. Her clothes are in moderately good condition, but for a few recently added burnt edges, ink splots, and general appearance of being worn-down and well-loved.
Always, without exeception, there is a pale white-and-blue seabird's feather tied by the chain of her eyeglass to the sleeve her left arm, about halfway up (the eyeglass itself is tucked into a small puch designed to hold it, also on her sleeve.). The sleeves of her tunic in general reach nearly all the way down her arm, but she's hemmed it so that they stop just after her elbow. Her pants legs end a few inches after her knees. Her only means ofa weapon is a sturdy, knarled staff about half a foot taller than her.
Possessions Her old shell necklace, her many various charms, and her worn necklace of dull blue-black stones are always with her, not to mention her braided-thread, collar-like necktie. Her quill is more precious to her than any of them, and even though she doesn't have an eye condition she uses a small round eye-glass to peer at smallish print on transcripts or old books. She carries several large rolls of parchemnt about with her, and has a certain place in her knapsack designed to carry bottles of ink in various colors, and several other writing brushes (no other quills). Her tunic and pants, and her bright, rustic-looking red-gold traverls cloak. The cloak has a hood that's not really good for anything but protecting her ears. A maple leaf is always stuck carefully under the chain of the eyeglass (wrapped around her sleeve for imiediate use with the glass piece itself pinned a small fold of fabric designed to hold it), on the opposite side of her arms than the quill. Along with her staff, with is taller than her by perhaps half a foot, she keeps enough food for a week in her pack and flint and tinder, a map she is constatly adding to, improving, or scribbling notes about the landscape on. There is a faint ouline of something written on the inside of her left paw, but the faint etchings are long faded and smeared and are unreadable.
Personality: With a soft voice and more elastic patience than her sister, Mapel is not one to lose her head over anything short of murder, massacare, and anything else of that category. She has a strong, unwavering moral code about which she is incredibly stubborn. With a quiet exterior and way of manner, it surprises people when she'll suddenly stand up and speak loudly and clearly about her take of the conversation. When she makes a descision it is a usually a well-thought out one, and in most cases would prevent many catastrophies (or at least, they wouldn't be as bad catastrophes). Nicknamed 'White Quill' because of her fur color and the fact that she is most often seen reading, translating, or taking notes/writing something, she has been studying whatever she could get her paws on to learn about stoats--a rather unhealthy obbsession that has been starting to grow on her, but don't be fooled. The reason for her efforts are not because she likes stoats--in fact, she rather dislikes them. Disinclined to hate anybody for prejudice, she attempts to keep an open mind. However, her shrewdness and perception allow her to make guesses and make impression about the people she meets; most of the time, too, she's right. She may look unassuming next to her sister, but she has enough will-power and stubborness to rival a hurricane!
Strengths: She can translate nearly anything, and has a keen, shrewd mind. If she takes it into her paws to plan a battle stratgey, it will be to whatever extent she can make it a good one. She has a vast knowledge of history of several kinds of creatures and places, and memoizes it all to use when she needs it--like, say, adjusting succesful strategies to make them better. She can be fast, and is constantly methodical. Most of listed above are more triats of her personality than true strengths she plays on--indeed, what she usually plays on as her strengths are her ability to speak several languages (diplomacy), and her knowledge of cultures. When she needs to, though, she can run very fast indeed.
Weaknesses: Mapel has an extreme phobia of blood, and wouldn't last long in a fight of any kind at all. Her stubborn streak shows itself at the worst otimes, and she has a terrible case of OCD--the result of which is to keep everything in order and methodical; say, if she was hiding in a flower bed and noticed on of the roses broken, she'd immiedately reach out to fix it, not thinking of risk of discovery! Diplomatic as she may be, her moral code gets in the way on occasions and she flys off on not-so-reliable tactics. Despite her appearance as soft and scholarly, she is hard to convince to be trusting of anyone and always takes the worst into caluclations. While this would normally turn out well, Mapel DOES have an imagination and many semi-peacful situations could become worse by her accusations and ponderings. A good way to induce her to fight would be mistreament of anything of historical value--and then to, she doesn't stop to realize that fighting is not her strong point!
History: Born near the coast of the northern sea, she was raised for the early part of her life by her mother, a sparrow named Screefeather, and her father’s best friend (father had died of hypothermia when his small boat broke on some rocks and he was forced to swim for shore.), along with her sister, Mapel. Screefeather would leave periodically, every winter, and one year he just never came back. At nine (years), her small colony was attacked by a shipload of deranged stoats, and several people, including her mother, were killed before the warriors of the colony could come together to drive the stoats away. Her father’s best friend was severely wounded, and there was little hope he would recover, but he did. Oaklea immiedately turned to the path of a warrior, training hard and driving herself relentlessly to be the best, and every kind of weapon she could train with she did. Mapel took a rather different path, and dedicated herself to reading and books and translating, going through every text the village had and some more than once. She began sketching out maps of the area she knew, writing down local stories and turning them into fabulous tales. She translated unreadable texts that had come to the village through the birds and other foreign creatures, and then she translated everything she wrote into whatever language she knew. She recorded daily going ons and wheather and everything else--she even chrionicled the attacks by sea raiders...and adapted them into stories, tales, and fables. The heroine for most of her books was a headstrong young mousemaid, always accompanied by a scruffy brown sparrow--she showed her writing to Oaklea and was delighted but shy to find her sister loved them--she didn't have to worry, though. If Oaklea ever caught on that the heroine was modled after her, she never in the least showed it. No matter how much Oaklea cajoled and begged and pestered Mapel, though, she never showed her or told her about what she was writing in the manuscript--the one she had not titled about a terrible stoat with red claws, and two sister mice, a sparrow, and village...
Two years later, when the same band of stoats stopped on their shores, Mapel had been in the process of scribbbling furiously on a map of the cliffs by their shore. She had set it aside and taken the large wad of parchment--the story she hadn't titled yet-- from it's hiding place and was contemplating how the tale should pick up from where she had stopped before. So deep in her thoughts, it wasn't until someone screamed right by her window did she start, and notice the battle taking place outside. Mapel was hoorofied, becasue she had noticed something very terrible--so terrible that she plunged striaght into the midst of the carnage and dared to grab her sister, who was slashing at every enemy she could see and whose paws dripped with something sticky and wet and red, she grabbed her sister by the arm, and pointed past the main battle to where their adopted-father was fighting tooth-and-claw with a trio of stoats. For a split second after Oaklea had shot off, roaring bloody murder, Mapel simply stood there in the middle of everything, dazed, watching as blood from someone who had just died splattered her white fur...And then, through everything, right in front of her, one beast stood out clearly from the haze and muffled sound and confusion--Tataroo Raketail, the stoat with red claws, stood and slowly grinned at her. Later, she would chrinocle it as a mad leer, before the stoat had turned on his heels, crimson cape splayed out behind him, before slaying three with lightning slashes of his saber and diving into the mob. Mapel felt herself falling, and was half-way unconscious for the rest of the battle, blending in so perfectly with the slain that not until she actually stood, as the others around her were being collected by the other villagers, did anyone even realize she was still alive. The haunted look in her eyes remained there as she zombie-walked her way back to her house, and shut herself in her room for hours while she could hear Oaklea howling in rage and pain just outside...and then, just when her lamp was about to burn out, she blinked and grabbed her papers, and began to write...
She's been traveling for a long while, having left just after the beginning of her almost-father's funeral. Having no idea where she’s going, she wanders farther south, perhaps on the hope of finding the legendary Redwall Abbey...
Relationships:Oaklea 'Black Wind' Wildrun--sister.
Erte--Mother.
Cetle--adopted-father.
Screefeather--a ruddy brown sparrow.
Tataroo Raketail--her occurring nightmare (a stoat).
A handful of rogue otters, sea and stream.
A small group of hares in various ranks from Salamandastron.
A camp full of very strange squirrels who were delighted to find that Mapel could read their pictograms and communicate with them.
And Raffin, an undersized newt who occasionally runs messages for her and follows her around.
A very old shrewmum and greying Barn Owl who share a loft, for whatever reason getting along. Both poets, they housed Mapel on her journey for several days.
Other: Her sister, Oaklea, had been traveling aimlessly to attempt and find Tataroo's whereabouts, and Mapel herself had. She ran into Raffin on her way eastward and gave him a message to give to Oaklea. When the two finally met up, they fell into the hands of a much stronger, larger crew of wicked stoats. Setting his ship on fire in a desperate escape plan, Oaklea and Mapel agreed to get away, and meet up in the south, preferably at the place called Redwall Abbey...
((...Yeah, a LOT like Oaklea's profile, I really only modified a few things in history and relationships, and made her appearance and personality as opposite as I could without completley erasing the sister link. Ehhh....
Mapel: I am not afraid of blood!
Me: Yeah, right.
Mapel: I'm not!
Me: Are too.
Mapel: Are not.
Me: Too.
Mapel: Not.
Me: Too! And see, that's one thing you share with Oaklea--stubborness to the extent of stupidity!
Mapel: ...Gah.
Me: *grin* ))
Gender: Female
Age: 17 (years), the same as her sister Oaklea
Species: Woodmouse.
Occupation: Loves to read, translates many languages and writes. Occasioanly plans fight strategies, currently traveling.
Physical Appearance: The exact same hieght as her sister, Mapel is niether short nor tall. Her tail is usually swishing along just off the ground behind her, as she's usually thinking about something deeply (or else just daydreaming). Her fur is slightly longer than middle length, and is a creamy white color (as in, not stark snow white, a softer shade than that). She has a solitary black spot just under her left ear, about perhaps the size of a pebble. Her ears are just infeseitamally smaller that average size, and her eyes are a dark brown color, the shade of very dark chocolate cake. She got a thin figure and looks slightly willowy, and the fur on her ears has the texture of fluff, for whatever reason. Her nose is a pale pink, which seems to match nicely with her cream fur. She has few scars, if any, that are noticable. Several small lines of silvery sheen appear around her paws and wrists, along with an inch-long tear out of the bottom edge of her left ear.
Always always always, a string of old and battered shells dangles around her neck and jingles against another loop of neckwear, adorned with some kind of faded stone. Tied much closer to the actual skin of her neck--indeed, it might even look like a collar to some people--is a braided, colorful string. Always accompanying it is a special charm in the shape of a 'W', but written in the style of some anceint runic language. Charms of all sorts adorn her everywhere, hanging from her neclaces, mized in the with shells and stones, or hanging from her light-weight travler's cloak. The cloak itself is an eddy of bright rustic red and yellow-gold, swirled as though the paints red and gold had been twirled together, but not mixed. Her clothes are in moderately good condition, but for a few recently added burnt edges, ink splots, and general appearance of being worn-down and well-loved.
Always, without exeception, there is a pale white-and-blue seabird's feather tied by the chain of her eyeglass to the sleeve her left arm, about halfway up (the eyeglass itself is tucked into a small puch designed to hold it, also on her sleeve.). The sleeves of her tunic in general reach nearly all the way down her arm, but she's hemmed it so that they stop just after her elbow. Her pants legs end a few inches after her knees. Her only means ofa weapon is a sturdy, knarled staff about half a foot taller than her.
Possessions Her old shell necklace, her many various charms, and her worn necklace of dull blue-black stones are always with her, not to mention her braided-thread, collar-like necktie. Her quill is more precious to her than any of them, and even though she doesn't have an eye condition she uses a small round eye-glass to peer at smallish print on transcripts or old books. She carries several large rolls of parchemnt about with her, and has a certain place in her knapsack designed to carry bottles of ink in various colors, and several other writing brushes (no other quills). Her tunic and pants, and her bright, rustic-looking red-gold traverls cloak. The cloak has a hood that's not really good for anything but protecting her ears. A maple leaf is always stuck carefully under the chain of the eyeglass (wrapped around her sleeve for imiediate use with the glass piece itself pinned a small fold of fabric designed to hold it), on the opposite side of her arms than the quill. Along with her staff, with is taller than her by perhaps half a foot, she keeps enough food for a week in her pack and flint and tinder, a map she is constatly adding to, improving, or scribbling notes about the landscape on. There is a faint ouline of something written on the inside of her left paw, but the faint etchings are long faded and smeared and are unreadable.
Personality: With a soft voice and more elastic patience than her sister, Mapel is not one to lose her head over anything short of murder, massacare, and anything else of that category. She has a strong, unwavering moral code about which she is incredibly stubborn. With a quiet exterior and way of manner, it surprises people when she'll suddenly stand up and speak loudly and clearly about her take of the conversation. When she makes a descision it is a usually a well-thought out one, and in most cases would prevent many catastrophies (or at least, they wouldn't be as bad catastrophes). Nicknamed 'White Quill' because of her fur color and the fact that she is most often seen reading, translating, or taking notes/writing something, she has been studying whatever she could get her paws on to learn about stoats--a rather unhealthy obbsession that has been starting to grow on her, but don't be fooled. The reason for her efforts are not because she likes stoats--in fact, she rather dislikes them. Disinclined to hate anybody for prejudice, she attempts to keep an open mind. However, her shrewdness and perception allow her to make guesses and make impression about the people she meets; most of the time, too, she's right. She may look unassuming next to her sister, but she has enough will-power and stubborness to rival a hurricane!
Strengths: She can translate nearly anything, and has a keen, shrewd mind. If she takes it into her paws to plan a battle stratgey, it will be to whatever extent she can make it a good one. She has a vast knowledge of history of several kinds of creatures and places, and memoizes it all to use when she needs it--like, say, adjusting succesful strategies to make them better. She can be fast, and is constantly methodical. Most of listed above are more triats of her personality than true strengths she plays on--indeed, what she usually plays on as her strengths are her ability to speak several languages (diplomacy), and her knowledge of cultures. When she needs to, though, she can run very fast indeed.
Weaknesses: Mapel has an extreme phobia of blood, and wouldn't last long in a fight of any kind at all. Her stubborn streak shows itself at the worst otimes, and she has a terrible case of OCD--the result of which is to keep everything in order and methodical; say, if she was hiding in a flower bed and noticed on of the roses broken, she'd immiedately reach out to fix it, not thinking of risk of discovery! Diplomatic as she may be, her moral code gets in the way on occasions and she flys off on not-so-reliable tactics. Despite her appearance as soft and scholarly, she is hard to convince to be trusting of anyone and always takes the worst into caluclations. While this would normally turn out well, Mapel DOES have an imagination and many semi-peacful situations could become worse by her accusations and ponderings. A good way to induce her to fight would be mistreament of anything of historical value--and then to, she doesn't stop to realize that fighting is not her strong point!
History: Born near the coast of the northern sea, she was raised for the early part of her life by her mother, a sparrow named Screefeather, and her father’s best friend (father had died of hypothermia when his small boat broke on some rocks and he was forced to swim for shore.), along with her sister, Mapel. Screefeather would leave periodically, every winter, and one year he just never came back. At nine (years), her small colony was attacked by a shipload of deranged stoats, and several people, including her mother, were killed before the warriors of the colony could come together to drive the stoats away. Her father’s best friend was severely wounded, and there was little hope he would recover, but he did. Oaklea immiedately turned to the path of a warrior, training hard and driving herself relentlessly to be the best, and every kind of weapon she could train with she did. Mapel took a rather different path, and dedicated herself to reading and books and translating, going through every text the village had and some more than once. She began sketching out maps of the area she knew, writing down local stories and turning them into fabulous tales. She translated unreadable texts that had come to the village through the birds and other foreign creatures, and then she translated everything she wrote into whatever language she knew. She recorded daily going ons and wheather and everything else--she even chrionicled the attacks by sea raiders...and adapted them into stories, tales, and fables. The heroine for most of her books was a headstrong young mousemaid, always accompanied by a scruffy brown sparrow--she showed her writing to Oaklea and was delighted but shy to find her sister loved them--she didn't have to worry, though. If Oaklea ever caught on that the heroine was modled after her, she never in the least showed it. No matter how much Oaklea cajoled and begged and pestered Mapel, though, she never showed her or told her about what she was writing in the manuscript--the one she had not titled about a terrible stoat with red claws, and two sister mice, a sparrow, and village...
Two years later, when the same band of stoats stopped on their shores, Mapel had been in the process of scribbbling furiously on a map of the cliffs by their shore. She had set it aside and taken the large wad of parchment--the story she hadn't titled yet-- from it's hiding place and was contemplating how the tale should pick up from where she had stopped before. So deep in her thoughts, it wasn't until someone screamed right by her window did she start, and notice the battle taking place outside. Mapel was hoorofied, becasue she had noticed something very terrible--so terrible that she plunged striaght into the midst of the carnage and dared to grab her sister, who was slashing at every enemy she could see and whose paws dripped with something sticky and wet and red, she grabbed her sister by the arm, and pointed past the main battle to where their adopted-father was fighting tooth-and-claw with a trio of stoats. For a split second after Oaklea had shot off, roaring bloody murder, Mapel simply stood there in the middle of everything, dazed, watching as blood from someone who had just died splattered her white fur...And then, through everything, right in front of her, one beast stood out clearly from the haze and muffled sound and confusion--Tataroo Raketail, the stoat with red claws, stood and slowly grinned at her. Later, she would chrinocle it as a mad leer, before the stoat had turned on his heels, crimson cape splayed out behind him, before slaying three with lightning slashes of his saber and diving into the mob. Mapel felt herself falling, and was half-way unconscious for the rest of the battle, blending in so perfectly with the slain that not until she actually stood, as the others around her were being collected by the other villagers, did anyone even realize she was still alive. The haunted look in her eyes remained there as she zombie-walked her way back to her house, and shut herself in her room for hours while she could hear Oaklea howling in rage and pain just outside...and then, just when her lamp was about to burn out, she blinked and grabbed her papers, and began to write...
She's been traveling for a long while, having left just after the beginning of her almost-father's funeral. Having no idea where she’s going, she wanders farther south, perhaps on the hope of finding the legendary Redwall Abbey...
Relationships:Oaklea 'Black Wind' Wildrun--sister.
Erte--Mother.
Cetle--adopted-father.
Screefeather--a ruddy brown sparrow.
Tataroo Raketail--her occurring nightmare (a stoat).
A handful of rogue otters, sea and stream.
A small group of hares in various ranks from Salamandastron.
A camp full of very strange squirrels who were delighted to find that Mapel could read their pictograms and communicate with them.
And Raffin, an undersized newt who occasionally runs messages for her and follows her around.
A very old shrewmum and greying Barn Owl who share a loft, for whatever reason getting along. Both poets, they housed Mapel on her journey for several days.
Other: Her sister, Oaklea, had been traveling aimlessly to attempt and find Tataroo's whereabouts, and Mapel herself had. She ran into Raffin on her way eastward and gave him a message to give to Oaklea. When the two finally met up, they fell into the hands of a much stronger, larger crew of wicked stoats. Setting his ship on fire in a desperate escape plan, Oaklea and Mapel agreed to get away, and meet up in the south, preferably at the place called Redwall Abbey...
((...Yeah, a LOT like Oaklea's profile, I really only modified a few things in history and relationships, and made her appearance and personality as opposite as I could without completley erasing the sister link. Ehhh....
Mapel: I am not afraid of blood!
Me: Yeah, right.
Mapel: I'm not!
Me: Are too.
Mapel: Are not.
Me: Too.
Mapel: Not.
Me: Too! And see, that's one thing you share with Oaklea--stubborness to the extent of stupidity!
Mapel: ...Gah.
Me: *grin* ))
