Stabs' Bios

As some of you might've noticed, I haven't uploaded profiles for most of my characters. That's for a simple reason- the art of making characters is very addictive for me, and I've come to doubt it's truly an art at all, or that it can be done artistically without disclosing some of the most wonderful details that I need to keep secret until the right time, or else they'd end up being no surprise.

On the other hand, making an accurate profile before using up the character is nearly impossible for me. I keep taking my characters in every direction I find, and it's hard to keep track of where goes what.

So as a solution, I'll only post bios for characters which I'm officially done with. That is... expect mostly dead people here.

Feedback still welcome though...



Isaac Chernabog AKA Generic Raider #347
Age: 26 (Deceased)
Cause of death: Fairy, nubile and naughty.
Biological age: Isaac stopped aging at 24, when he got to Felarya, though other conditions wore down his health to the average level for a 48 year old.
Mental ability: Constant trauma and both kinds of stress kept him far beneath his potential, which wasn't that high to start with. An overly horny 14 year old could outsmart him without great effort, and she did; had he had a clearer head, though, she'd have been taught a lesson on underestimating people instead.
Gender: Male
Race: Human
5 feet 8 inches, 138 pounds
Hair: Black and messy
Eyes: Brown, huge, psychotic.
Other characteristics: Carried the scent of danger.
Job/Profession/Trade/Task: Naughty... no, scratch naughty. Just raider. Rapists aren't naughty. They're sick. Or Nordic. Or Greek. Or Babylonian. But him, he was just sick, and even accepting the facts that there were no such things as an upside to rape and that it was the ultimate demonstration of selfish distaste for another being's well-being, a crime second only to murder in the direness of the consequences upon its victim, he still tried to do it.
Rest your soul, Isaac.


Description:
Chernabog ("Cher" to friends) used to exemplify the unkempt, nervous look for a survivor in the jungle. His eyes were red and puffy from lack of sleep, and his physique was skinny, nearly emaciated, having lost 27 pounds since arriving. Even in Felarya, Cher couldn't manage to stay in good health: the psychological toll his new trade and residence took upon him far overpowered the healing effect. Usually, he wore dirty green, ragged clothes, wielding a machine pistol, similar in makeup to an Uzi. He was twitchy, and the skin on his chin and cheeks was mildly scarred, from unsteady pulse while shaving. He also had bad breath.

History:
Chernabog used to do odd jobs here and there in the city, mainly as an assistant (read: lackey) to other people: he was content to simply abide by the silver rule, just leave everyone alone and hope no one asked him difficult questions. Ambition was alien to him. He wasn't able to keep jobs for long, so when he saw that well-paying ad in the jobs section, he seized the opportunity that got him to Felarya... but the convoy where he wound up working on was ripped apart by tonorions, which he only managed to escape by running off into the wild. He was found by raiders- humiliating himself, he managed to be accepted as one more in exchange for telling them where the convoy's remains were.
From there, Isaac lived a life of sheer depravity and hopelessness amongst them. He used to count the days at first, but when he lost all hope of ever leaving the raiders, around day 135, he stopped counting them.
He was eaten by a fairy 323 days later. She enjoyed him a lot, he very was tasty. Incidentally, though he didn't know it at the time, it was his birthday. Funny that, huh?

Personality:
Felarya had made Isaac very nervous, paranoid, detached... and horny. All that time spent watching predators eat other raiders left and right unless they gunned the things down (and enduring the fact that most of the predators they couldn't kill had faces and voices), being also shunned by traders who hated raiders, realizing also that predators could be moral enough to decide to eat only people like him, and finally finding it a constant ocurrence that some like him had to be sacrificed by their superiors to survive, left him with a serious "Me VS The World" complex which evolved over time into a Darwinian amorality: "if it's wrong and it helps you live, it's not wrong".
Cher was afraid all the time. When he wasn't afraid of being killed by predators, he was afraid that he would be killed by partners he wouldn't trust, used by superiors he couldn't, fooled by illusions he would, or distrusted for good reason: for this reason, he tried to never show weakness, hesitation, squeamishness or remorse, nothing that made others think he was expendable, useless, or even useable. Eventually he came not to care anymore about who he had to hurt, it wasn't anymore a matter of right and wrong to him: he'd finally slain his conscience. His only justification for this was that in a world this harsh, to be kind was to die: morality was something that happened to other people.
Whether he really bought that, or if he wanted to, is a question that plagued him up to his death. In a final moment of weakness, he wondered if he had already found out who he really was, and his time as a pillager had shown him his true face, or if he would in the end never find out. He didn't get to ask himself if he really wanted to know that.

Powers/Abilities:
Isaac's main notable ability was a killer instinct that had remained dormant until his time in the wild. Though he wasn't strong, fast, or bright in any sense of the word, and he usually was too tired to really run, he could be cruel, cold-blooded and sadistic, more than anyone else. Some say he was good at gallows humour, but that's not really the case: he never told jokes, he was just funny that way.
Finally, he could wield a gun, but only one model he'd learned from his time as a raider. He wasn't good at it, though, and more often than not, he was too nervous to put one of ten shots inside his intended victim at anything else than point-blank range.
It's possible Chernabog's ghost rises to haunt the place of his death. For his sake, I hope he's not bound to Nifil's stomach.



Nifil AKA Generic Nubile Naughty Fairy #233
Age: Jailbait (14)
Biological age: Old enough that you have to use a condom anyway
Mental ability: Deceptively smart wherever you wouldn't expect her to be. Can be pretty stupid about things she wants, though.
Gender: Female
Race: Fairy
5' 9", 138 pounds.
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Blue
Other characteristics: All men who find out she's just fourteen after having taken a good look at her are painfully troubled for the rest of their short lives, she really doesn't look like it!
Job/Profession/Trade/Task: Naughty Fairy

Description:
Nifil has that supermodel look that seems to be dime a dozen in Felarya. With long golden hair, tan skin, and delicate, ever-perfect fairy features, there's really little that you could use to distinguish her from any other fairy.

Background:
Nifil was born shy for some reason. Of course, once she went through her supernatural puberty, and gained the standard fairy suite of abilities, she decided to take it out on the rest of the world. Other than that, she's not special for a fairy. You might even say there's no need to make a profile for her.

Personality:
Despite being shy towards other creatures she considers people, Nifil has a different persona for strangers, at least to strangers she's not intending to talk to ever again. She doesn't really measure her words or actions with her prey, which might make her look a little stupid, sadistic or vindictive at times. Towards strangers she knows she won't be able to eat, she might act a bit more smug than she has to, trying to be more assertive: she's shy, this dominating persona is just her way of saying "Um... hi...". Over time, though, as she gets to know people, she freezes up instead of warming up, turning more and more shy as time passes, instead of the other way around; to a long-time acquaintance, it's possible to take advantage of her without ever realizing it. Though she begrudges these instances, it's hard for her to speak up to someone she cares for, even as the resentment slowly builds and seeps into her feelings.
If there's anything Nifil likes, it's feeling understood. Being snarky at her when she says something stupid is extremely easy, so obviously she doesn't appreciate it: even if she doesn't show it, those things DO get to her and she feels really stupid. Note, however, that even those prey who make her feel understood are eaten more often than not: she gets hungry when in a good mood, and just thinking about having to make friends from a situation so awkward is more than she feels she can handle, even if she'll hate herself for some time after eating someone who understood her.
For those few who've managed to crack through her shyness and survive, she still acts a little confused, mainly because she IS still a little confused: Nifil's signals are always mixed. Her ultimate expression of trust, for example, despite herself, is telling people what she resents them for. If Nifil shows you resentment, that means she'll never eat you, no matter how she comes to feel about you... or what you do to her.
What Nifil likes the most is having her needs anticipated, specially the perceived ones: it makes her feel not only loved, but understood, and since she's too shy to ask for most things, it makes her feel everything in the world is okay anyway despite her character flaws. Oh, she's bi by the way. All in all, she's a troubled, confused, poor little thing, but she's too dangerous to be pitied.

Powers/abilities:
If you don't know what fairies do in Felarya, this isn't the place where you're going to find out.

Just out of curiosity, why does your fairy weigh so much? She weighs more than the raider guy...

aethernavale wrote:

Just out of curiosity, why does your fairy weigh so much? She weighs more than the raider guy...

Is that too much? 150 pounds is a healthy weight for a woman her height, isn't it? Besides, Cher was underweighted...

I had stumbled across a formula, I think a 5'5 girl should weigh 125lbs, then you add 5lbs for every inch above that. I forgot where it was i read that.

The USN's max allowable weight for a 69" tall female is 174 lbs. The average medically accepted values (2008 release) are as follows for a female of height 69" with an age between 25 and 59 with the lowest mortality rate: light build - 126/139 medium build - 136/150 heavy build - 146/167. Weights are specified in a range from low/high in lbs. Generally speaking humans tend to increase in weight over age until the 50s when the trend reverses, though usually the end weight does not drop down to the beginning weight.


Personally I'd expect more in the 140s. The 120s is definitely too low. 150s is getting closer to higher limits.

After a few months of diet, Nifil has lost 5 pounds.

Alicia Livingstone
Race: Human (Straggler, Earth)
Gender: Female
Age: 23
Height: 5 feet 8 inches
Weight: 145 pounds
Build: Fighting fit
Hair: Long, black
Eyes: Blue
Skin color: Has a nice suntan
Prominent characteristics: Spindly fingers
Profession: Mathematician

"Nothing´s going to happen to me."

Description:
Alicia was a very wholesome-looking woman with rather indistinct features, usually dressed in a blue, rather short skirt and blouse, with a denim jacket on top. Most of the time, she used to wear her hair loose.

Personality:
After the initial impression, the first thing anyone'd notice about Alicia was that she was full of herself. She was an intelligent person and she knew it. Not to say Alicia had a goddess complex or anything, but it was extremely easy for her to dismiss other people's opinions if they were different from hers, and her usual answer to being told she was wrong was a contemptuous sneer.
Aside from that, she was easily upset, and got very angry, very quickly- when that happened, she took refuge in her pride, becoming painfully dismissive when, saying things that wouldn't line up with what she did or said the rest of the time. Either way, the things she regretted weren't that far from the things she usually said. She might've been scary when angry, but she seemed to think of herself as a force of nature: to most onlookers, it was all a little sad.

Background:
Alicia's background was rather unremarkable. Her parents were both professionals, her mother a doctor and her father a language professor. From the beginning, she was encouraged to do her best; her grades were straight A from 1st grade all the way to university. She found a boyfriend at the age of 17, though that didn't last. Then another at the age of 21, when she was halfway-done with university... but he had to return to his own country, which was a pity, because things were getting serious.
Either way, she finished university at the age of 23, with an average of 94%, becoming a full-fledged mathematician probably on her way to a renowned career. A little later, she went on vacation with Herman, a friend of a mutual friend. Things went well, until Herman's pride led him to try a shortcut- that didn't lead to any place on Earth. She wound up in Felarya.
Alicia's stay in that world was short. Arriving in the Great Rocky Fields, she was attacked by a stormseeker, and then, while seeking shelter from one of the frequent storms, stumbled upon a predator. There, after a conversation with the predator, she was eaten. Contrary to what it might've seemed, it wasn't her wrath and pride that doomed her. She'd have been eaten with or without them.

Abilities:
Having attained her degree in five years, Alicia had the kind of intelligence that you'd like to expect, and a life of love for reading, paired with a good memory (and a tendency to watch documentaries past midnight on cable), had given her an amazing degree of knowledge of minor details everywhere, specially about nature, a subject she'd always enjoyed IN THEORY. Frankly, Alicia wasn't very outdoorsy, despite she looked like it. Another of her favourite subjects was poetry, and love stories... followed, from a safe distance away, by sci-fi. Frankly, she didn't care much for fantasy or adventure.
Having enough self-esteem to match her achievements, and a little vanity to boot, Alicia always stayed well toned and in the right shape. She was very healthy, and rather strong, a fact that surprised more than one guy who offered to carry her groceries.


Herman Haggle
Race: Human (Straggler, Earth)
Gender: Male
Age: 26
Height: 5 feet 10 inches
Weight: 175 pounds
Build: Has a little of a belly, otherwise skinny
Hair: Short, black
Eyes: Black
Skin color: Needs more sun
Prominent characteristics: Dry skin
Profession: Lawyer

"People get caught all the time, and they rip people open all the time too!"

Description:
When not in a suit, Herman usually wore a black shirt and blue jeans. They went well with his goatee, eyes, and expensive watch. He also wore a jacket sometimes.

Personality:
Herman had always been the kind to put the other cheek, and smile. This rarely got him into trouble- and rarely knowing trouble, Herman rarely knew punishment. As such, he became so supremely confident it was silly at times: except in extreme cases, asking him to consider consequences would lead nowhere. He wasn't a loon, or a man-child, but rather irresponsible either way.
At the same time, this carefree disposition and shallow smile made it very easy for him to make friends- and to keep them for some time. He always felt a little guilty over being such a shallow person, though, which meant that he often went out of his way to help them, make friendship count. All in all, Herman was a good friend, if a little insane at times, though he often wondered if maybe he was not a real friend at all.
Finally, it's notable how easy it was for Herman to apologize or forgive. His stronger feelings, when not fed by adrenaline, were actually rather weak- let's blame pop culture for that, he watched lots of very violent movies and some cheesy ones too. This is probably where he got that strange quirk of speaking most true words in jest. On that same vein, he had very little problem dealing with very unpleasant (or insanely dangerous) people, as if he couldn't realize the danger. Actually, he could realize it, it's just that an entire life in the illusion of safety made him so that he just couldn't completely process it. This strange trait of his generally got everyone else upset, though sometimes he felt upset about himself too.

Background:
Haggle was raised by his mother; his father left when he was eight. For some odd reason, he didn't feel much on being abandoned. From there, he'd evolve into a mild, yet shallow personality: he'd distance himself from his mother, spending his time on cartoons and such, and from there, he began saying things not because he meant them, as he seldom meant anything, but because he liked the way they sounded. He never actually became a liar, though- just a snarky, silly guy without an ounce of motivation in his anywhere.
Herman met Alicia when he was 20, and she was 17. Back then, she was dating his best friend. When they fell out, Herman would've advanced on Alicia, she was hot after all, but when he got over the fact that such an intellect in someone younger than him was a little intimidating, he got to know her better and realize he'd never want to be that close to someone that full of herself and mercurial. By the time he finally got over the whole "could've been", they were already friends, despite their differences. They'd have probably drifted away, if it weren't for Brenda.
A couple months before dying, Herman bought a lottery ticket... and won a spanking brand new car! Of course, the first thing he did was celebrating with his pals, taking everyone out for vacations. Their vacation was plagued with wacky hijinks, courtesy of Herman's thoughtlessness. And because of that same thing, because Herman didn't want the drive home to end that quickly, he insisted in taking a shortcut, fully aware it wouldn't make the trip any shorter. He just didn't want it to end- instead, he ended it too quickly, for the shortcut led him out of this world.
Arriving in Felarya within his car, Herman's car was assaulted by a stormseeker, and then, trying to find refuge from one of the rains that are so common in the Great Rocky Fields, he wandered into Elsie's grove. Despite a friendly initial encounter, and despite she seemed to take a liking to him, assuring him she didn't want to eat him... in the end, because of his adamantly negative attitude, she went back on her words and ate him.
Though Herman could've went back on his attitude, as his feelings were shallow as always, even in this extreme situation, he decided not to be that person, becoming instead an unrequired sacrifice to the memory of his friends. Sadly (and obviously), nothing good came from his death.

Abilities:
Having nearly average intelligence and a lazy, carefree disposition, Herman wasn't too likely to pass for smart anywhere. It's a mystery where'd he get the degree in law, but that school should've been sued. Herman's main advantage was luck- he always was a very lucky man. This luck was followed in his list of good qualities by his personality, which was so useful to him that it might've been as well considered an ability.
Also, he'd functioned as a defense lawyer (a defense TEAM lawyer, specifically) rather well, mainly on instinct. Herman always kinda knew the right thing to say and really knew the things that shouldn't be said, the things to know, and the things not to know, even though he wished he knew the things to do and not to do instead.
Finally, his peripheral vision had a beneficial mutation that went unnoticed all his life. He had REALLY good peripheral vision, he could read stuff out of the corner of his eye!



Gabriel Wiggins
Race: Human (Straggler, Earth)
Gender: Male
Age: 25
Height: 5 feet 11 inches
Weight: 185 pounds
Build: Nicely built
Hair: Short, wild, black.
Eyes: Dark brown
Skin color: Tan
Prominent characteristics: Quite handsome
Trade: Webpage Designer

"We´ll need the best of luck in this brave new world. Like it or not, it´s up to us now."

Description:
Gabriel was a beautiful man, clad in soft clothes. Generally, he wore long pants, running shoes, a white shirt, and a gray hoodie. There was some hair on his face- but just enough around his smile to look scruffy and rugged. All in all, he was sexy.

Personality:
This man's defining trait was virtue. Gabriel had guts in spades, a measure of selflessness and endless hope, yet despite them, he could be an annoying nag at times. Both Herman and Brenda had compared him to "Captain America", while Alicia preferred to focus on telling him to quit the trade and get a career. Frankly, Gabriel preferred to live in the present, to the point that he didn't study anything past high school- he just learned how to design webpages from a friend, because it looked cool. In a way, he was as irresponsible as Herman- it's just he lived his life much more intensely.

Background:
Gabriel was mainly raised by his grandmother, as both his parents had jobs. She taught him the old ways of chivalry, christian virtue, and the kind of wisdom you usually find in self-help booklets; he ate it all up with a spoon, and thanked her for it. It was devastating for the poor kid when she expired... he didn't realize she was dead until his parents came back.
The realization that his time was limited too effected a change in the little Gabriel. He became a lot more outgoing, a lot more difficult, a lot more stubborn, a lot more impatient. And he'd stay that way for eighteen years.
Sixteen years after gran's death, Gabe met those two girls in a bar. He was short of change, and they were talking about something interesting, so he forgot what he was doing. A little later, Herman rejoined the table, and Gabriel realized the girls weren't alone- well, in that way, they were, but maybe... either way, he made three friends, and they wouldn't mind meeting again. So they met again, and again, and again.
Only two years after that, Gabriel joined Herman in a vacation trip. Sounded fun, and Herman had a lovely, brand new car. Though the vacations were a lot of fun, Herman took a wrong turn in the road, and wound up anywhere but in the world.
He got eaten a few hours later, over nothing at all, after talking with a great predator. Even though he blamed Herman for this, he still wished him no harm.

Abilities:
Aside from being a webpage designer of some skill, Gabriel'd picked up a few dozens of skills along the way. He was, in the whole group, the most self-sufficient: he could fix a car, or a water pipe, or an electric line, or your socks, or fix you up with a cake if you didn't mind it being pretty basic. At least, with him, the cake isn't a lie...

Brenda Sanjurjo
Race: Human (Straggler, Earth)
Gender: Female
Age: 22
Height: 5 feet 5 inches
Weight: 110 pounds
Build: Scrawny
Hair: Short, blonde
Eyes: Dark brown
Skin color: Indoorsy pale
Prominent characteristics: Oversensitive to wind chill, prone to goosebumps
Job: Art student

"You two, stop arguing and look at this!"

Description:
Brenda used to be a really skinny, blonde young woman clad in thick clothes, with a ponytail.

Personality:
Brenda was quiet, shy, very observant, and generally nice enough. She practiced the habits of counting to ten before getting mad, never saying no to a nap, and pointing the obvious when she'd get points for it. Deep down, though, she was a little bitter, and loved poking holes in everyone else's logic.
All in all, Brenda was a person with little ambition. She was content to live and let live, rarely curious or outgoing.

Background:
Brenda and pals wouldn't have met at all, except that our lovely Brenda had had her grades drop a lot after her parents' divorce when she was 13. And unlike Herman, hers was official, with fights over custody and everything. Well, she found some stability after she was assigned a tutor- a certain Alicia Livingstone. Alicia helped Brenda get over the whole ordeal, and afterwards, they became the first person each went to when they needed someone trustworthy.
Brenda's toughest time was when she turned eighteen, and needed a career choice. Though she had good grades, her actual passion was art- it took some time for her to come to terms with her true colors, and by the time she did, she was nineteen, with one semester of law school under her belt. Well, she started majoring in art... and she would've finished, if she hadn't just accompanied Herman in a trip.
Even the transition wouldn't have bothered her that much, weren't it for the bird that tried to eat her. Felarya really twisted the knife in parts of her she didn't even know she had, like being in such terror she might've... died of fright, not to say something rude. Even though she tried to be brave about it, she was really horrified- and this fear, this horror, precipitated her death at the hands of a local predator.

Abilities:
Brenda had an artsy streak that could be the envy of friends and family, and a long history of reading comic strips almost religiously. She usually drew cartoonish people, but she could be realistic if she had to. Her main area of interest were landscapes, though.
Unknown to everyone in the group, Brenda had also learned how to use a revolver, shotgun, or hunting rifle. Also, Brenda's metabolism was notable- she inherited it from her grandfather. Never in her life did she have a weight issue, except those times she felt too scrawny.

Nifil's still losing weight! After a month, she's lost another 4 pounds!

Frank Victor Herb
Race: Human (Los Angelino)
Gender: Male
Age: 43
Height: 5 feet 7 inches
Weight: 170 pounds
Build: Rounded
Hair: Brown, straight.
Eyes: Black
Skin color: Fair
Prominent characteristics: Wears thick glasses.
Profession: Professor

"They, they have to be around here somewhere, I never took them off..."

While mere theory at the time, spliced connections have long since been predicted by natural philosophers throughout the multiverse. Rarely have they been observed, nonetheless- due to facts such as the ones concerning the peculiar case of the late professor Frank V. Herb. Taken from his homeworld, the instance of Herb that arrived into a place where it was able to reform did so several times. The facts of the case, however, are lost to the universe at large.

Description:
Frank V. Herb had the look of an easygoing teacher- somewhat round and fat, short and squat, but nimble and kind. His round face was framed with a little stubble and thin, but well-brushed hair. Usually, he wore long green cloth trousers, a green shirt, and a vest, with vertical orange and white stripes over it. His thick glasses, amplifying his wide, black, kind eyes completed the image of a man who was mostly dressed for comfort.

Personality:
Just like he looked, Frank Herb was a rather carefree and easygoing man. Colloquial and informal most of the time, he enjoyed spectator sports, sci-fi in general, and testing the optic properties of a material and how they changed with the angle and temperature; his sense of humour relied mostly on being a ham and his knowledge of general trivia. Sometimes he was late with the paperwork, but that seemed to be his only flaw.

History:
The history of an average suburbanite like Frank V. Herb was could usually be condensed into three or so sentences. He was born in Los Angeles, January 2 of 1968, and quickly discovered a passion for sci-fi which managed to grow later into a passion for sci alone. His family moved to Baltimore for health reasons when he was 18- mom needed a change of air. Well, enrolling in Baltimore University wasn't too difficult. He got his degree at 24, and became a researcher shortly after.
He became a teacher at the age of 29- and only two years later he met who would be his widow, a woman he married after two more years. It only took him one more year to have a kid- and after that, nine more years until he was present at an experiment he shouldn't have been in.
One of his colleagues, Merlin Greek, a Lithuanian-born american, had been called with news of his brother back in Lithuania. He had been distracted for a while because of them- and accepted an experiment in which they'd attempt to measure the wavelengths emitted by a series of dielectrics. Most of those samples had been unfit, but Greek thought they'd just put them in the flash chamber and tick them off one by one as unfit. He'd told this to Herb- his response? "That doesn't sound professional, Greek, but if you want me to make you company..."
One of those samples had an interesting reaction- and that's where things went wrong. Frank V. Herb was sent to Felarya- in pulses. Each pulse, separated 24 hours, became a separate instance, each believing it was Frank Herb as a whole, unaware of the others- and each met a different, interesting and gruesome demise. There was a total of eleven pulses, and thus he died eleven times.

Nevertheless, it was interesting while it lasted.

Abilities:
Aside from a complete degree in physics and having passed a teaching exam, it's notable that Herb could only see blotches of color without glasses of the appropriate size and prescription.

Well, Nifil's lost 3 pounds. I think she'll be okay now.

Stach Tobias
Race: Human
Gender: Male
Age: 32
Height: 6' 1"
Weight: 192 pounds
Build: Buff
Hair: A lovely black mess.
Eyes: Brown
Skin color: Moderately tan
Prominent characteristics: Campy slur
Trade: Merc

"Mira que son bestias como están a la de tiros,
y nosotros entre medio sin comerlo ni beberlo estamos.
Mira que son bordes como juegan a ser hombres,
con los tanques, las batallas, las conquistas y el poner medallas."

Mecano, "No pintamos nada". From "Ya Viene el Sol", 1984.


Stach Tobias was a little conniving shifty bastard that managed to lie and cheat his way into leading CABRAS (Combined Arms Battle Response Armored Squad), one of the best armed paramilitary contractors in Felarya.


Description:
Tobias looked like he'd woken up in a cosplay store with a bad case of bedhead and tossed on the first things he found, then punched the salesman and stole some real clothes from the poor guy. Basically, he wore a shirt with a zebra striped motif, and over that, blue denim jeans and a leather jacket. It did look kinda good on him, he was kinda buff and everything, but his slurred tone kinda made him come off as a little camp with that frilly zebra shirt on, no matter how many cigars he was smoking or how many days of stubble he had on.

Personality:
Tobias was ambitious as a matter of principle- whatever he got, it never was enough, not if he knew he could do better than that. Where having your cake and eating it too was concerned, Stach always wanted that. Whenever he could go for double or nothing, he'd take the chance- and if he couldn't, he wouldn't be playing to begin with. The amount of time Tobias spent just thinking about how could things go wrong, just looking for a way to get them back on track and favorable back to him, was incredible, as was his arrogance, in par with his ambition. All in all, it was obvious this guy needed to get laid.
Speaking, he had a problem, he had a verbal tick ", ah, " working its way into almost every other sentence. Read people, he couldn't, so he often resorted to measured honesty- he wasn't blunt, but he never told anyone something that he judged useless for them to know.

Background:
None really, unsubtle self-insert and all that, but I'll humor you if you feel like being told a story.
This one begins with a native Negavian with a strange, but armchair, interest in the art of war. This would've never led anywhere hadn't he had abandoned the city proper- as far as physical prowess went, Stach didn't get far enough to be a grunt, much less a general. If anything, his knowledge of the art of war made him even worse a fighter than he would be without it! So well, not knowing any useful trades, he was fit only for unskilled labor. Being naturally arrogant, having at the time a "just kill me already" attitude, he signed for an expedition outside the city, towards Lamina. He heard there weren't many great predators over there, so there was only so much of a possibility he got lucky and died.
Well, as it turns out, there were plenty of raiding tribes! His bosses killed, Stach managed to barely escape, and from there he met a tribe of nekos. Well, one thing led to another- and with his armchair strategy help, they were capable of wiping out the local bandits harassing them. HOWEVER, the local predators showed their faces when the supply of raiders dwindled- and so, Mr. Tobias joined the tribe in a relocation.
From there, he met some local muscle, in friendly terms with the tribe. It didn't take long for this magnetic man to join these guys as the local brain for the muscle- and their success rate showed it, too, so no wonder they were so glad to accept him. But after a while, they got more than half-wiped. It seemed his luck had run out- actually, it was just starting to get in swing. Those guys then met the CABRAS [Combined Arms Battle Response Armored Squad]- which was in need of reinforcements. Well, they hired some local muscle, and Tobias with them.
He quickly became very popular with the CABRAS, because he was all funny and stuff... but his actual role was more like their shoulder imp than their real leader. It wasn't until the last leader's death that rather than follow sucession, they decided to rally under him instead, because his support group turned out to be bigger (and he'd pulled some very underhanded strings as well). Nevertheless, his official position in CABRAS was still "Shoulder Devil". With all of them behind, it was a lot more unlikely that he made a mistake, but if it weren't for CABRAS' own tremendous strength, they probably wouldn't have risked following his orders. It also helped that he was arrogant enough to be the first one to bank on each of his plans- he was really, really magnetic that way.

Arrogance and guilt together became his downfall- he went ballistic upon the loss of a certain "Missile", a dog he'd found and very thickly bonded to. For that reason, he picked the worst possible moment to take a stand against two predators protected by powerful magic. Albeit he had the proper weapons to win (needless to say, he wouldn't have done it otherwise), he changed his mind way too quickly during the final hours, and events conspired against him in such a way that he was unable to both form a good plan and stick to it while keeping the support of his men. He died truly humiliated, dooming all those who entrusted their lives to his command.

Abilities:
Stach had an amateur level of skill with tactics (which had veritable foresight but poor prioritizing) and a fairly good physical condition, plus he could be counted on being a paranoid, narcissistic nut. His skill with weapons was non-existing.
Aside from that, Tobias was generally lucky enough not to bite off more than he could chew- and had a special ability to make everyone feel useful. No matter how ridiculously weak or stupid someone was, Tobias could find a way in which they contributed to victory and had something to show for it.

The fun part:
On the other hand, leading CABRAS as he was, he had access to a team that was out of a monster truck rodeo, an army surplus sale or a children's design contest. Probably all three. For the record, CABRAS counted with 97 members, most of them soldiers with some good level of training... not him, though. They were also carrying a totally appropriate supply of ammo, fuel, booze, munchies and spare parts for nearly everything. CABRAS was the dream team!

Aside from those 97 members, CABRAS counted on a baker's dozen of vehicles for logistics and artillery. Strange ratio, eh? Either way, CABRAS had an infantry fighting vehicle, a main battle tank, a towed command post, a mobile missile battery (both Ground-to-Air and Ground-to-Ground), an absolutely humongous jeep armed to the teeth, some exotic ordinance platforms they'd picked up along the way (a mobile laser turret, a sonic tank, a particle cannon, a hovercraft-mounted flamer battery and a trike with rayguns), two tactical trailer trucks (for logistics) and a catapult. Yes, you read that right. Just in case they met something immune to everything else. Most other members of CABRAS wanted to get rid of the catapult and sell the exotic ordinance platforms, but he wouldn't have it.

But before that, he carried a machinegun on himself and several other weapons. Finally, he had a BOX OF SCRAPS which he had more or less filled with magical and not-so-magical doodads, a quality common to packrats in the adventure genre.


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Thory

Race: Dridder
Gender: Female
Age: 87
Height: 107feet
Weight: 900 tons (estimate)
Hair: Intense blonde
Eyes: Black
Skin color: Pale
Body color: Black
Prominent characteristics: Striped body

Thory is a dridder living in Orelosk Plateau. She's a blacksmith of zero skill, and a weaver of negative skill.

Description:
Thory's got a black body with red stripes all over her spindly legs. Above it, she's got an unassuming body, pretty average for a dridder, and kind of pale, tattooed around the shoulders and one breast with a few strange symbols. Her face has two wide, long black eyes and is framed with a round hairstyle that covers her eyebrows with blonde hair.

Personality:
In her opinion, Thory has enough friends already, so she's kinda cold towards strangers, at least at first. She's a loyal friend, but she's not a fool (if there's NOTHING at all she can do for a friend, she'll quit, but they can rest assured until then that there's nothing she won't do for their sake). Patient with objects, not so with people, she can idle away a lot of time in her cave practicing, but quickly gets bored of hunting or chatting. Thory doesn't measure her words towards her prey (or nagas), and probably never means to really say anything to them; it's more like she talks at them than to them, not listening either. Yes, she knows that mentally they're the same level. In her case, her reply is that she just doesn't give a peach.
While of sound mind, Thory's very stubborn, and doesn't really give much for smartitude (except her own; she says it like that when it's about someone else). There's only one way to do things right, it's her way, there's only one way to see things right, and it's her way. Reasoning with her is impossible, and it would still be if she cared for logic, so she comes off a lot as a stupid jerk, but she more than makes up for that: She might be the strawman, but to friends, she's THEIR strawman. It's hard not to get attached to her: she is, as a rule of thumb, quite frank, unless she thinks it'd be a good idea to just be indirect. Not really subtle either way, and though she might be a huge jerk sometimes, she doesn't really mean to hurt anyone- except when they need it. And they better thank her for it! While she wouldn't appreciate the same thing coming from someone else, which is a little hypocritical of her, she's capable of putting up with differences when need be. Unless it's about nagas.
Now about the things she's a strawman, these include nagas (their culture is to disappear, they're but animals), Sineria (she'll rise again and do the guardians in, and they know it), and just about anything she's said in a flight of fancy. Even if she could ever realize she was wrong (which would take completely unique circumstances), she wouldn't say it aloud!

Background:
Thory's mommy and daddy are both from Dridder Forest, and both are fervent believers in the supremacy of dridders over nagas, the resurrection of Sineria, their manifest destiny, and all that. Well, they were good parents, so too bad, their little kid grew up believing in all that too.
She learned the craft of smithing from her daddy, and the craft of weaving from her mommy. Should've been the other way around, but you know, accidents happen.
When she was around forty years old, Thory decided to set out and make her way in the world, aiding the Seekers of Sineria a little bit farther out from home. So being all patriotic and everything, Tory went to the northern side of Orelosk Plateau, to ply her trade, make friends, hunt nagas, and shelter Seekers of Sineria.
Thory quickly got into a non-aggression pact with the local centaurs, though the truth is that most of the local predators her size don't really like her. One exception is Elsie, a godawfully HUUUUGE giantess who also lives close by; she's met her a year ago. She often stays over at Tory's, and viceversa, plus the two of them have done quite a few things for each other. Tory has a customer for her wares, and Elsie has someone to talk to. The two are very good friends, but just that; Elsie's really picky, which the dridder is very meh about.
She's kinda concerned about the fact that Elsie's bigger every time she looks at her, and about how she's only nineteen and still has decades of growing up to do. But for the time being, she enjoys Elsie's company, even if she sometimes thinks she's gonna have to put the big girl down one day.

More Recently:
Elsie and Thory's relationship became strained and tested as of late, as a series of events convinced Thory that trying to help Elsie any more was a waste of time. They had their good moments, but the dridder grew weary of saving her friend's ass once and again, only to find herself rebuffed in the final moment, to discover Elsie was a truly disturbed piece of work. Whether she's been fair to just give up on the woman or not, or whether she did it for the right reasons, is a notion she's pushed out of her mind already: she lived fifty years without Elsie and she can live fifty more. At the moment, she has no interest at all in fixing her friendship with the giantess.

Habits:
Thory's got a forge in a huge cavern. There, with whatever metal she finds (usually vehicles and stuff), she makes tools and weapons. The thing is, she's not a good smith, and most of her creations are pretty crude and rough. They're serviceable, at least, but still, you'd rather have a better smith there. She practices, but not everyday, only when she can. Elsie's given her some chances to practice: so far she's made a shovel and a cauldron for the girl.
Thory sucks at silks too, she can't get enough practice because she's hunting too often. Elsie's apron, for example, was made by her. That's why it's so uneven, rough, and has the frills all wrong. (There's also the fact that Elsie's been wearing it for some months already and has sprung up several feet while in it, but it was already ugly when it was made).
In general, she hunts harpies with webs, small animals by ambushing, and sometimes picks stuff... in the deeper parts of the cave she calls home. Rarely does she get to eat nekos or humans, and though she really loves eating them, it's still kinda annoying for her to eat them: she'd rather not tease and just nom them, but she has to. So she usually plays a little, just to give them some time to say they're seekers of Sineria and then prove it; by the end of this time, she's usually already in a foul mood. But there's still another way to get some of them spared: if one can tell her anything about ruins anywhere, she's more than happy to hear it. It's still pretty likely she eats them anyway, though, as she doesn't really care much for humans as people to keep her word to. This also means her services are only available for predators... and unfortunately for some, she doesn't take metalworking advice from edible things. Helping her become a better smith won't earn anyone a chance.
The only people who meet her in a good mood are complete strangers to Felarya; knowing they can't be adventurers or Seekers eases her conscience about eating them, and she has a genuine smile in her face after getting a guilt-free treat. It's not that she really loves the taste of humans- it's just a moment she really enjoys for its simplicity.

The Fun Part:
Thory's arts and crafts appeal is very limited, and vore's only so much fun. Most of Thory's fun part is how she can be pushy to other people, and she can be pushy because it's the way she shows she cares.
She has some skill fighting, too, but unless paired up with a fair level of intelligence, this level of skill would be pretty sterile. It's worth noting that despite she's stubborn and very dogmatic, Thory is fairly intelligent as well.

All Fun and Games... is over. Here's the cast- minus Talía and Elsie.



Rozal

Race: Centaur
Gender: Female
Age: 191
Height: 118 feet
Weight: 1300 tons (rough estimate; she's never weighed herself)
Hair: Black, wavy, around back-length, with bangs and a ponytail.
Eyes: Brown
Skin color: Fair
Body color: Tan
Prominent characteristics: Has a nice smile

"Of course not- if I am to let you reason, I am to do it in equal conditions. Having your life hang in the balance would be unfair, mine is not. Asking you to believe yourselves mere morsels would be absolutely callous of me too. Were I to do that to you, eat you, I'd do it without asking you to understand it, without your input; but I accept I could be wrong, so I won't do anything irreversible upon you, just to give you the benefit of doubt."
"I'd ask you to realize as soon as possible reason never held much convincing power- here, debate is at best a hobby and at worst an annoyance. So please don't make me believe I'm responsible for you trying to talk your way out of anything here."

Description:
The first thing anyone would see about Rozal is that she's got the body of a brown horse with a tan female torso on it. Both parts are somewhat muscular and, in general, healthy. She has brown, warm eyes, and black wavy hair falling in bangs around her head, part of it held in a short ponytail. A most interesting feature is her smile -usually small and kind, but the easiest way to tell her apart from other predators would be because she wears a top covering her chest and one shoulder. Actually, it's not there to cover her chest- she has a very wide scar over her breasts, which she says is too distracting to show.

Personality:
Anyone who spent long enough around Rozal -which doesn't make it many people; she tends to get rid of visits before they get annoying- would see that she's a thoughtful and kind person, patient but shrewd- just a little chauvinistic. She prefers to be quiet, making few questions, listening more intently to people's silences than to their exact words. When she grows suspicious or distrustful is when she lets loose with the questions- usually being thoughtful enough not to annoy anyone or let her feelings be known unless she wants to.
For the things she likes, Rozal likes helping people- furthermore, she likes understanding people, often considering things from their perspective before doing it from her own. They take a lifetime to fully understand, though, so she'll never try to fully understand them- just only for as long as it takes to get them somewhere they may continue long and thriving lives. She tries to make the best of every moment, though.
Rozal has always tried to be a better person, for as long as she can remember- and this means understanding people, finding ways to help them understand each other, trying not to stir up trouble, and generally placing other people's happiness above her own. She can always be happy for them. The thoughts she's been through, she records, mainly orally, but sometimes she writes them down- she gets a secret joy out of immortalizing her thoughts in word.
But she's not all hugs and smiles. She profoundly despises anyone whose livelihood depends on them getting preternaturally dangerous- and she tolerates no hairsplitting or discussion on this end. If it requires someone to be more deadly than the rest of their species, mentioning it won't earn her respect. She can respect greed, to a degree, but she can't respect honing the art of killing, much less the art of hurting creatures higher on the food chain. As she sees it, all humans have no problem in their lives without the need to hurt great predators- the rest should leave Felarya instead of endangering other sapient creatures just because they can.
There's a darker side to her kindness as well- she's quite arrogant and makes a lot of choices, even some that aren't her call. If she thinks she should lie to someone for their own good, she will, without a second thought. If she feels something should happen, she might do some really callous things in the heat of the moment, for she tends to think of people as things sometimes- she can't help it, she's just like that. Though she'll stop herself before actually doing anything, sometimes it just takes a little nudge for her to be a manipulative bitch instead of a kindly person.

Background:
Rozal was raised by her mother. Now, as for where she went wrong, probably it was when she encouraged Rozal to be curious. You see, Rozal always talked to prey, and she always ate it later. The odd thing was that she figured out a pattern- most prey were actually in the same situation, and too scared and angry to really talk. She once found her mother too angry to talk, and the resemblance was uncanny.
After figuring out that while for her it was the millionth time, but for every individual she preyed upon it was -invariably- the first time, that most of them hadn't given the issue much thought until they got caught, and that it put them on a really bad mood, she completely stopped talking to her prey. Silently and tacitly acknowledging they had a heart, that they were something she didn't lump with animals, felt like doing enough at the time. It was nearly impossible to feel guilty about it.
At one point, Rozal met this centaur. And together with him, she decided to form a family. Well, at this point, her genetics screwed her over- it was almost impossible for her to get pregnant -no matter how fun it was to try-, as it turns out, because her parents' genes had been different enough for her to be almost a sterile hybrid. Almost, because just before she gave up all hope, she succeeded. Her calf was born several months later- a healthy boy she'd be able to teach anything in the world, a boy who'd be loved by his parents and love them back in return.
Fate had other plans. Cruel thing, eh? Anyway, one day their father had had to leave for a while, she had been watching over her kid- from too far away and too distracted, it seems, because a harpy swept down and took him away. Rozal tried to stop her, but a sweep of her talons gave her a scar on her chest she now hides, and another in her scalp.
After that it was only a matter of time before the lovers split up. He couldn't forgive her for failing- she couldn't forgive herself either, and neither could she forgive him for not being there to save their son. Things got too awkward- too many things were left unsaid, either out of apathy or consideration. Whether they were to be said or not is something she still wonders from time to time.
And that's when she found a little chunk of heaven, Elsie, kid. A tomthumb who needed her- someone whom no one her own size would try to eat. But being needed only by this one being, Rozal changed too much for her. She gave up sentient prey completely, made sure to always keep her close, wondered sometimes if she wasn't confusing the poor thing. If the way things went was any clue, she'd been right in doing that. Either way, Elsie found a way to grow to maximum size- and Rozal put no objections, but the whole thing started getting to her nerves after a while, so she needed to get some distance from the kid, tried to give her some alone time. Besides, the two of them had been growing too clingy to each other- they knew it wasn't healthy. Elsie had to make other friends, Rozal needed to trust the kid to live, and wallop off.

More Recently:
The day she returned to see what had become of Elsie, six months later, she found her not just to have grown larger than her, but sullen and close-mouthed. It took only a day for her to crack open under her own pressure- Elsie had become a full-fledged predator, not just some oversized tomthumb. That wouldn't really have been something Rozal couldn't have lived with, but Elsie had used a fairy's magic to make herself larger, at the expense of the fairy, all for her own sake. This was more than she felt she could handle, so she left her once more.
The centauress is yet to decide if will she do more about it.

The Fun Part:
Unlike most predators, food is the last thing Rozal would see another sapient being as. Even further, she cares to understands them- those who know her will see that first of all, she loves showing her work and doesn't mind being wrong (as long as it isn't too often). While she's willing to explain, sometimes she rushes in trying to get the point across- that might leave out important details. Keep in mind she's not a wooden figure either- Rozal will usually be understanding with someone if they're angry and frustrated, but they'll be ultimately ignored if they prove too much for her patience. If that's not the case, there's a lot of fun things you can do with Rozal, such as playing games like I spy, or hunt together in the plains.
Even treasure hunters and other greedy individuals are safe from her- as long as they're not relying on strength. Rozal has nothing but the utmost contempt for those who take pride in being deadly, and any display of strength is a surefire way to get in trouble. It won't necessarily involve getting eaten, but if faced with someone who strives to kill or die by it, she might break anything she can -maybe weapons, maybe limbs- and then leave them to fend by themselves. If she can't without a fight, she'll just mouth off and be gone. Someone who WAS relying in strength but isn't anymore might get a free ride back to a safe place- assuming they can promise they'll swear off adrenaline for the rest of their lives, or at least have the decency to take it somewhere she'll never see them again.
Trying to understand is a hobby she's passed on to her adopted daughter, Elsa. Passing things on is another hobby of hers: she loves leaving an imprint in everyone, teach them at least a little, give them maybe a piece of advice, sowing a pearl of wisdom and virtue just to give them something to remember her by. Humans being as good as anyone else for those purposes, both because they need help and they can remember her words, is the selfish part of the reason why she sees them as people.
Also, Rozal has learned the trade of copywriting. Over 191 years of youth, she's learned over thirty different script systems. Though she mainly relies in the translation effect when speaking (and thus her accent is actually an atrocious one), she's got excellent handwriting, handchiseling, and hand gesturing.


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Suzume (Sparrow)

Race: Eta (He inherited a job as a trapper. So he's almost human)
Gender: Male
Age: 27
Height: 5 feet 3 inches
Weight: 135 pounds
Hair: Short, black
Eyes: Black
Skin color: Swarthy yellowish
Prominent characteristics: Characteristic, twisted scar on his right cheek.
Trade: Trapper

That did it. I've lost all respect for you.

Description:
Sparrow is a short, little, swarthy yellow man with a pair of trunks, his chest covered with a cloth and a vest on top. The cloths are earth brown tones, while the vest and trunks are fuzzy dirt brown rabbit skin. He wears sandals with this outfit, though he has no problem going barefoot if he has to.

Personality:
Sparrow is a fair and humble man, raised in the belief that everything in the world has its place and that his place is obeying others. He's actually pretty stoic about his own life- but only where obeying his greaters is concerned: he would sooner not die for nothing. Whatever people he can meet, he'll be loyal to, unless there's some good reason why they can't be... friends is not the word. He doesn't have enough love for himself to be a real friend: he becomes more of a flunkie if anything.
Though he feels any friendship would be inappropriate to say the least with Hare, he has some hope of one day proving himself to Weasel, and maybe get accepted, as a fellow human if nothing else. Though his loyalty is mainly to Hare, there's nothing he wants more than to get acknowledged by Weasel.

Background:
Sparrow was born the only child to a family of two, a trapper and his wife. His mother died when he was six, of a bad pox- a pox he himself contracted too. During his struggle with the pox, he happened to cut himself on the jaw, leaving a scar that never healed properly and twirled a bit as he grew up. Whatever the case, he never tanned or grew much of a sideburn on his right cheek.
At the age of ten, Sparrow's father was killed. The samurai who executed him never said a word- Sparrow was taught to simply accept this, and he did. His father had taught him well the arts of trapping, though, and he managed to eke something of a living on his own, trapping and eating rabbits, trading them for greens, skinning them for hide, sometimes selling the calmer ones as pets... basically, this kid lived off bunnies, but sometimes he got really lonely. They didn't make good pets, after all, and he was nearly completely alone. It was only the fact he had to keep busy just to live that kept him from moping.
Respecting his father's memory, he did as was taught, always keeping his distance and being respectful of others- though he always wished he knew what had his father been killed for.

More Recently:
Sparrow was contacted about four years ago by a girl, who happened to be a young noble. He was truly moved and impressed by her discoveries- she had discovered what had his father been slain for despite the fact it had happened before she was born. Sparrow's father had been crossdressing to act as a geisha, and he had impregnated someone's wife. So somewhere out there, Sparrow had a brother. Hare then explained her half-brother, Weasel, was probably also his half-brother!
He gladly accepted to accompany them anytime he wanted to hunt and she wanted to enjoy some time in nature. Even if he knew that he was just a trapper, Sparrow enjoyed just knowing he had a brother, contagiated by Hare's enthusiasm on all this. Though he never spoke of this, he felt closer to the two of them than he had felt to anyone else in his lonely life: one of them was his brother, though it was almost unthinkable that he'd ever acknowledge him, and Hare had had the kindness to look at him and see a man, for some reason, rather than a trapper living off animals. Together with them, he felt like he was part of something.
Sometime during a hunt, the three of them took a wrong turn... and ended up somewhere with blue grass. And giant centaurs who explained they had been really lucky not to get eaten outright. And this colossal woman with huge boobs fingered his two best fr... his two masters. Needless to say, he spoke up. And for some reason, she listened to him... it's possible he saved their lives, but he's still not really sure what happened. Anyway, he's in a bunker now.

The Fun Part:
Interestingly enough, Sparrow's pretty bold for a trapper- where Weasel and Hare are involved. When he's on his own, Sparrow is a lot more meek, unless it's about them: those two are what he cares about the most in the world. Beyond that, Sparrow's content for the time being to be himself and do not much else.

======

Hoshihikari Usagi (Starlight Hare)

Race: Buke (Noble. Human, by the way)
Gender: Female
Age: 14
Height: 5 feet and a gilette
Weight: 105 pounds
Hair: Long brown
Eyes: Brown
Skin color: Yellowish
Prominent characteristics: Round-ish
Trade: Future Wife. Hopefully.


Description:
Usagi is a relatively short asian girl with sorta round features and a bun on her head. She's dressed in a kimono... that's pretty much it.

Personality:
Equal parts clever and airhead, Usagi would be best defined as creative but unwise. Having taken in her responsibilities the wrong way, this young lady loves fiction of most sorts -romantic in particular- but seems to have a little trouble drawing the line between visionary and nutcase. She tends to see things for what they could be instead of what they are, having no real way to get a notion of the difficulties- leading to sometimes saying or doing things that weren't very necessary or prudent.
She's got a soft spot for the half-brothers, Sparrow and Weasel. Weasel's her half-brother too, the whole improbability of the situation keeps her feeling kinda close to Sparrow, who also grew on her over the years- he had a refreshing perspective on things to go with the patience and honesty of a saint. He was trustworthy, a lot more than some people she had met.
Though she says she always wanted to be a wife, she's not really aware of what that means: she was never close to her mom, so she doesn't know what kind of wife will she be. Right now she's feeling more curious than traditional, so it doesn't really matter anyway.

Background:
Well, you remember Itachi and Suzume? Remember Itachi's sister had been born after he did? Remember Suzume had been contacted by some very clever girl? Guess what, she's it!
Well, being born shortly 'fore her bro left, Usagi grew up alone, on a lot of reading and calligraphy. Her mom and dad weren't so big on raising girls, so she mostly wound up alone, reading a lot, and drinking deep of intrigue and other bad stuff with the cousins... nasty cousins, them. Typical young noble, y'now.

More Recently:
Well, she kinda had a soft spot for romance and mystery- and so she wound up, at the tender age of nine years old, when Weasel came back, figure out eventually that he had a half-brother living alone in the forest. Whether she was correct or not, the hermit fell for it hook line and sinker- she went on to make up a pretty story where the two brothers got reunited and accepted each other despite their differences. To kickstart it, she asked their brother to accompany her hunting, bringing along a local element to find their way.
This arrangement went on for four years- their parents only accepted it because she was, quite frankly, being therapy for Weasel, who had come back wrong from school. She kept postponing the end, not telling Weasel that Sparrow was his bro. Sparrow himself seemed to catch to the plan quickly himself too- he never once even came close to telling Weasel about their bonds.
And it'd have continued for years to come if they hadn't wound up in a dimensional accident where Usagi found herself pushed off the spotlight.

The Fun Part:
Well, she's an improbably young failed intrigant with a lot of imagination, a silly mouth, no attention for social castes and plenty of brains. If that's not fun, what is?

======

Hoshihikari Itachi (Starlight Weasel)

Race: Buke (Noble)
Gender: Male
Age: 23
Height: 5 feet 5 inches
Weight: 140 pounds
Hair: Receeding, wild, black
Eyes: Black
Skin color: Pale yellowish
Prominent characteristics: Acrophobia
Job/Profession/Trade/Task: Ji-Samurai

And you look like a downtrodden horse-shagging redneck country bumpkin's overfed moronic child!

Description:
Weasel looks pretty silly, actually, with a receeding hairline, a wrinkled forehead, stringy, wild hair, and a pair of glasses he almost never uses. Usually, his lean build is wearing sandals and wrapped in a kimono. That might change soon, as the only kimono he brought is not meant for indoors use. No, seriously, not for indoors use. Keep reading.

Personality:
Weasel is explosive, stubborn and miserable, but actually a pretty fair man underneath that not-so-smart mouth he has. However, his values system is... pretty askew, actually. As far as he cares, someone who's not showing proper respect should be cut down where they stand, but he's fair enough not to do that. Respect doesn't get a high priority for him- nor from him. Anybody bothering Weasel will get an unfair and cruel yelling at, and god does he have strong lungs. He believes he's being already too merciful just letting people live after they try to contradict him.
Weasel believes in Bushido- and the seven virtues (Gi, Yu, Jin, Rei, Meyo, Makoto, Chugo), though he's not a shining example of anything. That said, albeit verbally very explosive, he never stays angry for long, and measures his actions. He doesn't believe in the equality of all men, but despite believing he's the only judge of his own actions, he strangely believes in not killing. Actually, that's because he doesn't take pleasure in hurting others- it's just not as satisfying as yelling. Those who try to deny him the chance to yell at them, however, might find themselves punched in the face, tossed to the ground and get the snot beat out of them: to him it's just punching, he could easily take a sword and disembowel them. That makes it A-OK, it's more disciplinary anyway!

Background:
Weasel was born to the wife of a noble of some importance, product of her illicit romance with a geisha. (The guy crossdressed as a woman to act as a geisha. For the lulz!) As anyone can guess, that couldn't end well... but anyway, since The Man wanted a boy, he had him raised anyway. Weasel really got it hammered in that he was never going to be as good as any sibling he had, or as good as the other kids, that he had a place and stuff... they were extremely hierarchic back home, you see?
Anyway, he was a single child until the age of 10, when his half-sister, Hare, was born. He felt displaced, he felt a lot of things, you see? Either way, he got sent off to study for nine years, like most nobles, rarely seeing his parents during that time... you see, for some reason he became a shut-in angry fucktard during his studies, I wonder why. When he came back, ready to take up clan duties, his gempukku (rite of adulthood, usually followed by an arranged marriage) had to be postponed because he had developed a real bad case of potty mouth. That, and he was doing opium!
While his gempukku kept getting postponed, he got to meet his half-sister, Hare, whom he resented terribly, but whom he had been taught to recognize as a purer blood, and thus, not an equal, but a greater. She was kind of an airhead, but it was nearly impossible not to bond, for some reason.

More Recently:
Hare had introduced him to Sparrow, a man who was the lowest of the low. The three of them started hanging out- Weasel secretly felt he wasn't much better than the trapper, while Hare acted like the glue between the two of them as they took trips into the wild: Weasel was starting to get the hang of hunting, plus he was starting to like it there, where nobody bothered him and he dishonored no one by cursing like a sailor in need of opium, not to mention Hare wanted to see some beauty to represent in her poetry, feeling a lot safer around her half-brother and their humble servant.
Well, one day on their way back, they wound up somewhere with blue grass, you see? That's when they knew Sparrow had taken a wrong turn. Weasel wasn't unhappy about it, knowing just how happy he was to go back home- the moment they saw a giant centaur, he knew they'd wound up somewhere a bit far from home, and felt unhappy with his guide. When the centaur explained, though, he realized it wasn't Sparrow's fault. And then he screamed.
The rest of the day was a nightmare for Itachi. He spent half of it fainting and the other half asleep. He doesn't want anything else with Felarya- as far as he cares, he's glad they're right now sleeping safe and sound in a bunker, away from home, where he'll never have to worry about mostly anything ever again.

The Fun Part:
Itachi has such a bad case of acrophobia that he's barely capable of looking up without all strength draining from his legs. Anything more than that is physically impossible for him.
But if it doesn't involve looking up, he's actually pretty badass with a katana, y'now? Though... most of what he does now is just backtalking very violently and going through opium and sake withdrawal.