Post by xxdizz:// on Jun 2, 2009 11:46:07 GMT -5
Name: (Captain) Axrom Crosscheek
Age: 23 seasons
Gender: Female
Species: Ferret
Marital Status: Single, with no aspirations otherwise.
Position and Home: Axrom currently captains the corsair ship Badger's Regret, so named as her personal reminder of the vows of vengeance she swore on the corpses of her siblings Mora and Tyron seasons ago. Her home, as a result, is wherever her ship may be, whether docked in a harbor or sailing the high seas in search of plunder with her crew.
Strengths:
Weaknesses:
Alignment: Evil
Appearance: {For simplicity and aid, I actually have a sketch of Axrom, located here.}
Axrom is not particularly tall or large for a ferret. Rather, she is of average height, perhaps a little taller, and fairly lean. The fur on her head is short and spikey, and her left ear has been pierced with three small gold hoops. Her tailfur is just as spikey as the fur on her head, and is almost as short, compared to the tails of mice or some other ferrets. Her eyes are almost always either solemn or fierce-looking, depending on her mood, and are a piercing green colour. Directly below her left eye lies the scar that both saved her life and gave her the name of Crosscheek.
In terms of clothing, Axrom dresses fairly simply. A green tunic of sorts, perhaps an old cloth shirt, with ragged sleeves and hem covers her upper half, while a pair of simple black pants, also tattered and frayed so that they no longer cover her ankles, does the same for her lower half. Her belt is a black silk scarf, tied securely around her middle. A matching black scarf is tied around her head, and a knotted necklace hangs from her neck, with a simple fang as its pendant. Whose fang is anybeast's guess, as Axrom always gives a different answer whenever asked, but rumours say it belonged to her brother, and that Axrom keeps it with her for luck. On either wrist, a hempen bracelet is tied, dyed in an intricate pattern of crosses and lines that would make anyone dizzy, with an "X"-shaped tattoo on her left forearm. The Crosscheek goes barefoot, and wields only her scimitar, a shimmering blade with a few nicks in it, but still deadly and useful in any battle.
Personality: There was a point in time when it was commonplace to see Axrom smiling and laughing with her crew; these days, that is a rare sight to see. Not that Axrom is a hardened, cruel captain; far from it. She's a fair enough captain, treating those aboard her ship with a certain respect and comraderie that many a goodbeast would find strange and even unfitting with the general perception of how a corsair should act. Mutiny, or what Crosscheek perceives as such, is punished with the utmost severity: if the crime is fairly small, a few lashings with the flat of her blade will suffice. Out-and-out mutiny, or repeat offense, is rewarded with nothing short of death, delivered swiftly by the edge of her scimitar. A fair enough punishment, she is sure. It is that dual personality that inspires both loyalty and fear in those beasts she keeps on as her crew; the best mixture of feelings, in her opinion.
Axrom tends to keep to herself. Where once, she would have confided in her crewmates, those thoughts are now kept to herself. She keeps her ship's log neatly enough, and makes sure that Badger's Regret runs smoothly and prettily, but most of her free time is spent either reminiscing over bygone days or planning her revenge on the creatures of Salamandastron; mainly, though, on revenge. What little time she allocates to remembering her past is mostly spent on her memories of how her previous crew and her siblings died. Axrom is determined to never have something like that happen again, not while she still draws breath.
History: Axrom was born to a pair of ferrets, a male named Jaime Blacktail and his mate Xerane, on the southwestern coast of Mossflower, twin to her brother, Tyran. The eldest of the pair, Axrom was the de facto leader of the pair, and, when the two would play at being corsairs, Axrom was often the captain, and Tyran her first mate. They were happy that way, and the twins would often look out at the ocean and talk of being real corsairs, in the manner that a dibbun at Redwall might talk of being Abbot, or an otterpup of being Skipper.
Mora was born when Axrom and Tyran were five seasons old. They loved their little sister dearly, and would often include her in their games, inspiring a love of the sea in their younger sister. Their parents allowed the children their games, while Jaime taught the elder two the finer points of combat, giving them instruction in weaponry once they reached their eighth season. Axrom chose her father's old scimitar; for Tyran, it was the sling (an odd choice for a corsair, one might say, but Tyran was a skilled shot). Five seasons more of training, during which Mora was instructed in the art of knife throwing, and the twins thought themselves ready to be corsairs. Perhaps not captains yet, Axrom told her brother, but someday, they would have a ship of their own, and they could bring Mora aboard it so she could be a part of their crew.
So the pair joined themselves to the ship Black Dirge, under the captain Sofren Darkbrush, a fox with a sense of style that added to his skill. Axrom was one of the few females aboard the ship, and she and Tyran were the youngest members of the crew. Nonetheless, they found themselves feeling quite at home on the Black Dirge.
Six seasons swabbing her decks and saving up plunder found the now-19 seasons old Axrom and Tyran on their own ship, called Nightaxe, with Axrom as captain and Tyran as her mate, just as they'd promised so long ago. They handpicked their crew, adding young Mora to the roster so that she could begin her training as a corsair. The three siblings were reunited, and were quite content to live the lives of pirates, robbing the coasts and plundering any and all beasts they came upon, drinking ale (grog was a concoction that, while Axrom liked it well enough, was not nearly as palatable compared to the soft ale) and trading jokes with other corsairs in the taverns they frequented. It was two seasons of bliss for the Nightaxe and her crew, and it seemed as if this life of bliss would never end.
But end it did, and all too soon for Axrom.
One summer evening, the Nightaxe was sailing past the western coast of Mossflower. It had been a good day, and their haul from a passing merchant ship had been especially good, with plenty of goods and silks for all the crew. Axrom and Tyran were celebrating with the crew, in fact, with a few of the searats and a stoat or two playing music as the whole ship drank ale and grog and feasted on roast bird, spiced with whatever delicacies they'd found in the unlucky ship's hold that afternoon. An idyllic day if there had ever been one, Axrom thought, as she took a swig from her tankard of ale, savoring the flavour as it flowed down her throat. Tyran turned to her, laughing about one of the crewmembers having too much to drink. "Might be he'll drown in the stuff, sis!" The young ferret had joked. Axrom had laughed, and the crew with them.
That was when the first arrow hit, cutting off Tyran's melodic chuckling with a strangled gurgle as the point buried itself in his throat. Mora screamed, dropping the half-eaten leg of birdflesh she'd been gnawing on before. Panic ensued aboard the Nightaxe as hares climbed aboard, armed not only with weapons, but with the deadly element of surprise, a blade the corsair crew had wielded themselves only hours before. They had crossed into view of the mountain stronghold Salamandastron, and now they had to pay for their wicked deeds. Axrom reached for her scimitar as a stone from one hare's sling struck her on the face, knocking her unconcious for the duration of the battle.
Axrom awoke hours later, cheek throbbing where the rock had hit her. As the captain looked at the mess that lay strewn across her ship's once-tidy decks, she almost wished that she, too, was dead. There lay Tyran, the arrow gone from his throat but the wound deep and rust-red with dried blood. And near the stern of the ship, Mora's corpse sat, face down with slash marks in her back where rapiers had cut her down. The rest of the vermin crew lay around the ship, killed in a dozen different ways, but those two... her siblings, dead...
And yet, here stood Axrom, spared death's embrace by sheer chance, living with only a slash mark on her cheek where the stone had struck her and so saved her. Where was the fairness in that?
Axrom dumped the bodies of her crew overboard, saving Mora's and Tyran's so that she could give them a proper burial back where they'd once played at being corsairs. There, she laid them to rest, and, with care, slowly sailed Nightaxe to the nearest port. She picked herself a new crew, just as she'd done before, but the damage had been done. The ship was renamed Badger's Regret, for it was in the taverns that she learned of Salamandastron, of its Lord and hares. And it was on the decks of the newly-retitled ship that she took the name of Crosscheek and swore to bring that same death to the creatures of Salamandastron, just as the hares had brought it to her kin and friends.
So Axrom Crosscheek has sailed for the past few moons, raiding and plundering from any and all she sees. She is bent on vengeance, and will not rest until the Lord of the Mountain lies dead at her feet. A thing, she knows, many have attempted, but the Crosscheek is determined to have her revenge, and that is what she shall have.
Codeword Martin the Warrior, obviously. =3
Complete!
Age: 23 seasons
Gender: Female
Species: Ferret
Marital Status: Single, with no aspirations otherwise.
Position and Home: Axrom currently captains the corsair ship Badger's Regret, so named as her personal reminder of the vows of vengeance she swore on the corpses of her siblings Mora and Tyron seasons ago. Her home, as a result, is wherever her ship may be, whether docked in a harbor or sailing the high seas in search of plunder with her crew.
Strengths:
- Skilled with the scimitar
- Set on vengeance (see History)
- Commands her crew through loyalty and fear combined.
- Clever and thoughtful
Weaknesses:
- Set on vengeance (double-edged sword)
- Prideful
- Rash-tempered
- Takes time to make decisions when they matter (thus slowing her at times)
Alignment: Evil
Appearance: {For simplicity and aid, I actually have a sketch of Axrom, located here.}
Axrom is not particularly tall or large for a ferret. Rather, she is of average height, perhaps a little taller, and fairly lean. The fur on her head is short and spikey, and her left ear has been pierced with three small gold hoops. Her tailfur is just as spikey as the fur on her head, and is almost as short, compared to the tails of mice or some other ferrets. Her eyes are almost always either solemn or fierce-looking, depending on her mood, and are a piercing green colour. Directly below her left eye lies the scar that both saved her life and gave her the name of Crosscheek.
In terms of clothing, Axrom dresses fairly simply. A green tunic of sorts, perhaps an old cloth shirt, with ragged sleeves and hem covers her upper half, while a pair of simple black pants, also tattered and frayed so that they no longer cover her ankles, does the same for her lower half. Her belt is a black silk scarf, tied securely around her middle. A matching black scarf is tied around her head, and a knotted necklace hangs from her neck, with a simple fang as its pendant. Whose fang is anybeast's guess, as Axrom always gives a different answer whenever asked, but rumours say it belonged to her brother, and that Axrom keeps it with her for luck. On either wrist, a hempen bracelet is tied, dyed in an intricate pattern of crosses and lines that would make anyone dizzy, with an "X"-shaped tattoo on her left forearm. The Crosscheek goes barefoot, and wields only her scimitar, a shimmering blade with a few nicks in it, but still deadly and useful in any battle.
Personality: There was a point in time when it was commonplace to see Axrom smiling and laughing with her crew; these days, that is a rare sight to see. Not that Axrom is a hardened, cruel captain; far from it. She's a fair enough captain, treating those aboard her ship with a certain respect and comraderie that many a goodbeast would find strange and even unfitting with the general perception of how a corsair should act. Mutiny, or what Crosscheek perceives as such, is punished with the utmost severity: if the crime is fairly small, a few lashings with the flat of her blade will suffice. Out-and-out mutiny, or repeat offense, is rewarded with nothing short of death, delivered swiftly by the edge of her scimitar. A fair enough punishment, she is sure. It is that dual personality that inspires both loyalty and fear in those beasts she keeps on as her crew; the best mixture of feelings, in her opinion.
Axrom tends to keep to herself. Where once, she would have confided in her crewmates, those thoughts are now kept to herself. She keeps her ship's log neatly enough, and makes sure that Badger's Regret runs smoothly and prettily, but most of her free time is spent either reminiscing over bygone days or planning her revenge on the creatures of Salamandastron; mainly, though, on revenge. What little time she allocates to remembering her past is mostly spent on her memories of how her previous crew and her siblings died. Axrom is determined to never have something like that happen again, not while she still draws breath.
History: Axrom was born to a pair of ferrets, a male named Jaime Blacktail and his mate Xerane, on the southwestern coast of Mossflower, twin to her brother, Tyran. The eldest of the pair, Axrom was the de facto leader of the pair, and, when the two would play at being corsairs, Axrom was often the captain, and Tyran her first mate. They were happy that way, and the twins would often look out at the ocean and talk of being real corsairs, in the manner that a dibbun at Redwall might talk of being Abbot, or an otterpup of being Skipper.
Mora was born when Axrom and Tyran were five seasons old. They loved their little sister dearly, and would often include her in their games, inspiring a love of the sea in their younger sister. Their parents allowed the children their games, while Jaime taught the elder two the finer points of combat, giving them instruction in weaponry once they reached their eighth season. Axrom chose her father's old scimitar; for Tyran, it was the sling (an odd choice for a corsair, one might say, but Tyran was a skilled shot). Five seasons more of training, during which Mora was instructed in the art of knife throwing, and the twins thought themselves ready to be corsairs. Perhaps not captains yet, Axrom told her brother, but someday, they would have a ship of their own, and they could bring Mora aboard it so she could be a part of their crew.
So the pair joined themselves to the ship Black Dirge, under the captain Sofren Darkbrush, a fox with a sense of style that added to his skill. Axrom was one of the few females aboard the ship, and she and Tyran were the youngest members of the crew. Nonetheless, they found themselves feeling quite at home on the Black Dirge.
Six seasons swabbing her decks and saving up plunder found the now-19 seasons old Axrom and Tyran on their own ship, called Nightaxe, with Axrom as captain and Tyran as her mate, just as they'd promised so long ago. They handpicked their crew, adding young Mora to the roster so that she could begin her training as a corsair. The three siblings were reunited, and were quite content to live the lives of pirates, robbing the coasts and plundering any and all beasts they came upon, drinking ale (grog was a concoction that, while Axrom liked it well enough, was not nearly as palatable compared to the soft ale) and trading jokes with other corsairs in the taverns they frequented. It was two seasons of bliss for the Nightaxe and her crew, and it seemed as if this life of bliss would never end.
But end it did, and all too soon for Axrom.
One summer evening, the Nightaxe was sailing past the western coast of Mossflower. It had been a good day, and their haul from a passing merchant ship had been especially good, with plenty of goods and silks for all the crew. Axrom and Tyran were celebrating with the crew, in fact, with a few of the searats and a stoat or two playing music as the whole ship drank ale and grog and feasted on roast bird, spiced with whatever delicacies they'd found in the unlucky ship's hold that afternoon. An idyllic day if there had ever been one, Axrom thought, as she took a swig from her tankard of ale, savoring the flavour as it flowed down her throat. Tyran turned to her, laughing about one of the crewmembers having too much to drink. "Might be he'll drown in the stuff, sis!" The young ferret had joked. Axrom had laughed, and the crew with them.
That was when the first arrow hit, cutting off Tyran's melodic chuckling with a strangled gurgle as the point buried itself in his throat. Mora screamed, dropping the half-eaten leg of birdflesh she'd been gnawing on before. Panic ensued aboard the Nightaxe as hares climbed aboard, armed not only with weapons, but with the deadly element of surprise, a blade the corsair crew had wielded themselves only hours before. They had crossed into view of the mountain stronghold Salamandastron, and now they had to pay for their wicked deeds. Axrom reached for her scimitar as a stone from one hare's sling struck her on the face, knocking her unconcious for the duration of the battle.
Axrom awoke hours later, cheek throbbing where the rock had hit her. As the captain looked at the mess that lay strewn across her ship's once-tidy decks, she almost wished that she, too, was dead. There lay Tyran, the arrow gone from his throat but the wound deep and rust-red with dried blood. And near the stern of the ship, Mora's corpse sat, face down with slash marks in her back where rapiers had cut her down. The rest of the vermin crew lay around the ship, killed in a dozen different ways, but those two... her siblings, dead...
And yet, here stood Axrom, spared death's embrace by sheer chance, living with only a slash mark on her cheek where the stone had struck her and so saved her. Where was the fairness in that?
Axrom dumped the bodies of her crew overboard, saving Mora's and Tyran's so that she could give them a proper burial back where they'd once played at being corsairs. There, she laid them to rest, and, with care, slowly sailed Nightaxe to the nearest port. She picked herself a new crew, just as she'd done before, but the damage had been done. The ship was renamed Badger's Regret, for it was in the taverns that she learned of Salamandastron, of its Lord and hares. And it was on the decks of the newly-retitled ship that she took the name of Crosscheek and swore to bring that same death to the creatures of Salamandastron, just as the hares had brought it to her kin and friends.
So Axrom Crosscheek has sailed for the past few moons, raiding and plundering from any and all she sees. She is bent on vengeance, and will not rest until the Lord of the Mountain lies dead at her feet. A thing, she knows, many have attempted, but the Crosscheek is determined to have her revenge, and that is what she shall have.
Codeword Martin the Warrior, obviously. =3
Complete!
