Post by Munkustrap Etc. on May 1, 2007 20:12:04 GMT -5
I'm bored and should be writing an essay, but I don't want to, so instead, here are the minor characters I am playing, and a bit about each of them.
For all her beauty and charm, her sassiness and her love, Burelle’s story is a tale of loss. A purebred red Somali kitten, she found herself out on the streets in Monnik territory when a terrible crash claimed the lives of both her humans – they had been bringing her home from a show in which she won a blue ribbon. Lost and confused, crying for the human family that refused to move, Burelle was discovered by Leviticus, the then-leader of the Monnik tribe.
Leviticus was smitten by the pretty little red queenkit, and he immediately sidled up to her, offering his most charming smiles and assurances of assistance. It didn’t take much to convince Burelle to return to the abandoned warehouse the Monniks used s their communal gathering place. Once there, Burelle was immediately set upon by the older queens who whisked her off to take care of the “poor little dear.” The only queen who didn’t seem eager to help this newest acquisition of Leviticus’ was Griddlebone, who was a fairly new arrival herself. The white Persian, though, had cemented her place in Leviticus’ affections, and she did not relish the idea of sharing his attention with a kitten.
Within a year, Burelle was considered to be one of Leviticus’ mates, and by the time she was two years old, she was pregnant with her first litter. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who the father was, and Burelle again found herself being coddled by the older queens, all of whom wanted to win Leviticus’ favor by helping his current favorite.
Burelle was terrified of her pregnancy, and even more of her body. With a bulging stomach and sore paws, how could she possibly keep Leviticus’ attention? Though young, she was fully aware that those who lost Leviticus’ favor usually ended up suffering. Griddlebone had never become pregnant. She never lost her enticing curves.
Burelle’s first litter consisted of six kittens, two queens and four toms. Her oldest, Macavity, was her favorite, but each of the kittens held a piece of her heart. She was frightened, though, by an old queen who advised her to “not love them, not until they survived their first month.” Burelle later wished she could have taken this advice to heart.
The kittens showed signs of magic at an early age, magic which Leviticus praised heavily. Macavity was the fastest learner, and even as Burelle grieved her kittens as they disappeared and were found dead, murdered by some fiend (Burelle suspected Griddlebone), she celebrated Macavity’s magical growth.
It wasn’t until she found her youngest, Ritzkin, dying, his throat torn open and sparkles gone from his fur, that Burelle put all the pieces together and realized that it was Macavity who continually slaughtered her other kittens, not Griddlebone. Somehow (and to this day, Burelle can’t explain it), she managed to hold Ritzkin together, keeping him alive while his throat slowly healed. Ritzkin explained to her what Macavity had done, and Burelle sent him off to find someplace else, someplace safe, where he could live without the fear of his brother.
By this time, Burelle had mothered a second litter, and was pregnant with a third. The second litter had not had any magic, to Leviticus’ dismay, and the third had been won by a long succession of seduction attempts. Burelle had studied Griddlebone, how she walked, how she talked, how she used her paws and nose and tail to catch the attention of all the toms around her. To keep Leviticus’ attention, she needed to use every tool she had been given.
When Burelle was pregnant with her fourth litter, Leviticus died. Some say he was hit by a car. Some say he drowned. Others say he was poisoned. Some say a human shot him. Some said he was simply old. The most commonly held belief, though, one that was whispered but never spoken aloud, was that Macavity killed him, Macavity, the magic cat, Macavity… his heir.
Burelle had no problems believing that Macavity was behind Leviticus’ death. He had grown distant from his mother, except whenever she had a new litter. She tried to keep the baby kittens from him, but somehow, they would wander off and into his paws, winding up missing. All of Burelle’s sons disappeared, and a few of her daughters went that way as well. More often than not, though, her daughters would get killed by a Pollicle or sickness or harsh winter. Still, Burelle knew that Macavity was a murderer. She just didn’t have any proof… or anyone to go to for help.
After Leviticus died, Burelle had a dilemma. She couldn’t seduce her oldest son – not only was that wrong on several levels, but she didn’t want Macavity touching her even if he wasn’t her son. Leviticus, at least, she could tolerate, even if she had learned he was a dirty, evil, old tom. Leviticus, at least, did not murder her kittens.
Without Macavity’s favor, though (and he didn’t favor her, though he didn’t abuse her, either. He ignored her, more often than not, and denied any relationship with her), Burelle was on her own. She turned her considerable powers of seduction on the other toms of the tribe, wooing them over to her side one at a time. While this kept her in their favor, and kept them from chasing her from the tribe or having a bit of sport with her, it also resulted in pregnancies five and six. Again, her tomkits disappeared mysteriously, and Burelle was growing frustrated with this whole “death of kittens” thing. After her sixth litter was weaned, Burelle swore off toms, claiming that twenty-nine kittens were enough, even if only eleven of them survived (twelve if she counted Ritzkin, who she didn’t know was still alive for sure).
Unfortunately for Burelle, the Monnik toms had not sworn off the seductive queen. By this point, flirting had become second nature to Burelle, and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it. Frustrated with her constant refusals of their advances, Burelle was beset by a group of toms one night. Though she struggled, they outnumbered her.
Burelle spent another almost-two months among the Monniks, making plans for her escape. She wasn’t sure where she would go, but she thought she might be able to find a place among the purebreds in their mansions. Her memories of her early life were few, but she did know she had a pedigree. Somewhere.
One cold night at the start of winter, Burelle snuck out. Two of her daughters, Jokaste and Smokkate, helped her get as far as the river before they retreated to the safety of their dens. Burelle set forth on her own, hoping to find shelter before her kittens were born. She ran into a Jellicle queen, Cassandra, and the rest, they say, is history.
Known as the Weevil, Curculio is a ghastly looking cat. His muzzle is nearly constantly stained with blood, fresh and drying, and his ears are ragged. His coat is flecked with salt from sailing the seas, giving a white, crusty appearance to his usually smoke-colored fur. Soot, dust, and grime cover him, and he often has open wounds on his back, sores and claw marks.
The reason for Curculio’s appearance is his lack of a tongue. When he was a kitten, he and his best friend were captured by Grumbuskin. He had been a handsome kit, with bright orange eyes and soft, smoky fur. His friend, Phaedon, had been a banded tabby, with brown and grey fur that shimmered as he moved and blue eyes that never seemed to have lost their kittenhood color. Grumbuskin had been pleased with his prizes, and collared them both, putting them on leashes and turning them into his pets.
Phaedon had the misfortune of falling in love with Aneski, another of Grumbuskin’s captives. He had the even graver misfortune of having Grumbuskin find out. Furious at the idea that one of his slaves would dare even think about molesting one of his Things, Grumbuskin had Phaedon executed in front of everyone on board the ship, to prove his point. Phaedon had his tail cut off and eyes torn out. Grumbuskin then sliced his belly open and tore out his entrails, forcing the slave to eat his own guts until he died. He was then served to the rest of the slaves as their meals.
Curculio had started screaming when Phaedon was being executed, and he used every last curse he could think of, hurling the filthiest words he knew at Grumbuskin. He refused to eat his friend, and spat in Grumbuskin’s face.
This did not amuse the pirate.
Curculio, though, was spared a death, because Grumbuskin rather liked the convenience of his pets, and thought it would be a shame if they were both dead. Instead, he had his tongue cut out, so that he would never again insult Grumbuskin, and he was thoroughly whipped.
Over the years, Curculio has grown into a small but stocky cat, strong and muscular, though heavily scarred. His ears are tattered from the result of many battles, both with enemies and with Grumbuskin, and the wounds on his back and sides heal poorly due to his lack of hygiene. Curculio must depend on the kindness of other cats to stay clean… and most don’t have the time to bathe him, nor do they have the desire to touch his filthy coat.
Curculio is still Grumbuskin’s pet, though he’s rarely on a leash. He still wears a hemp collar, though. By this point, many years after Phaedon’s death, Curculio has been broken. He obeys Grumbuskin unquestionably, no matter what the order. Grumbuskin often rewards him with petting – usually involving claws – and the occasional, very rare but extremely cherished, bath. Despite his cruelty toward Curculio, and the nickname Grumbuskin gave him, Weevil, Curculio has developed a sort of infatuation with Grumbuskin and the pain he gives. If anything, Curculio gets upset and jealous whenever Grumbuskin turns his attention to another cat. Curculio also nurtures a bitterness deep within, and frequently strikes out at cats who shun him for his appearance.
Grumbuskin was Growltiger’s “bucko mate,” immortalized forever as going to “wet his beard” while Growltiger was attacked by the Siamese. To this day, Grumbuskin nurses a grudge against the Siamese for what they did to his friend and captain. The Persian also fear Grumbuskin, as the Lady Griddlebone, Growltiger’s betrayer, is still at large, and Grumbuskin still hunts her. White cats also suffer his wrath, for their resemblance to this most hated of queens.
For his part, Grumbuskin is a huge cat, a grey tabby who rivals the size of small Pollicles. He walks with a definite sway to his step, the result of spending years on a ship. He sports a ragged left ear, and the tip of his tail is actually pronged from where it had gotten sliced in two. This fork is only about a centimeter long, though, and usually well-hidden by his fur. Grumbuskin is liberally decorated with battle scars, and wears the marks of his victories proudly. He has the polydactyl mutation, and thus has extra toes – and extra claws! – on each of his paws, giving him the appearance of mittens.
Grumbuskin is a slave trader as well as a pirate, and he employs many slaves on his ships. Some, like Curculio, are used for fighting or pleasure, but most are kept chained to the oars. On Grumbuskin’s ship, the only rule of conduct toward slaves is that you cannot kill or maim a non-rower slave, and if you kill one of the rowers, it was up to you to find a replacement. Other than that, anything is allowed.
Grumbuskin’s favorite way of getting new slaves is coming into a settlement of cats as a friendly visitor, charming all the queens and befriending all the toms. He has a knack for getting along with kittens, and is always ready to tell them a story or play a game with them. After worming his way into the hearts of most of the cats, he and his crew sweep through, picking out their pre-selected victims. Kittens and small cats often stay with Grumbuskin as his personal slaves, while other particularly unique or beautiful cats get taken off to the slave markets to be sold or traded.
WARNING[/i] - If you end up in Grumbuskin's paws, he does not have any reservations against killing you. If you anger him, he might give you a, one, single warning... if he likes you. And then, if you mess up again, he'll kill you. He might not be as creative as he was with Phaedon, but he does NOT tolerate his slaves back-talking him.
Just ask Curculio.
Jokaste and Smokkate are sisters but not twins. They are both tortoiseshell queens, black with red and cream splotches, and the daughters of Burelle and Leviticus. Jokaste is four now, from Burelle’s second litter, and Smokkate is three, from Burelle’s third. Jokaste is smaller than her younger sister, but she’s the cleverer of the two – though not by much. Smokkate is larger and stronger.
Jokaste and Smokkate are thieves and prostitutes, working together in a duo much like Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Years of synchronizing their motions have given them the ability to move in unison as if they were identical twins, and their similar markings help perpetuate that myth. This duo, known commonly as Joke and Smoke, is a mischievous pair of cat burglars, and dangerous to boot. They are adept at dodging in fights, and as such, neither sport a single scar. When they are required to land a blow, their favorite move is a double kick, where they both swing around and give a powerful kick with their inside paws, striking their foe with two synchronized blows. The sisters are adept at finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences, and usually get along quite well. Even the one tom they both are trying to bed, Macavity, cannot turn them on each other.
Joke and Smoke are fond of their mother and sisters, being very close to their family. Neither are aware, though that Macavity is actually their oldest brother. While the pair gets spiteful and vindictive toward any queen who tries to move in on what they consider their territory, they make exceptions for blood relatives.
The two queens have longer fur and consider themselves quite beautiful. They share their mother’s green-gold eyes and learned much about the ways of seduction from her. Smokkate has never been a mother, but Jokaste has had a single litter of three kittens. Merade, her favorite daughter, is a disciple of this duo, and sometimes is even allowed to join them on their adventures as a third in a trio.
Burelle
For all her beauty and charm, her sassiness and her love, Burelle’s story is a tale of loss. A purebred red Somali kitten, she found herself out on the streets in Monnik territory when a terrible crash claimed the lives of both her humans – they had been bringing her home from a show in which she won a blue ribbon. Lost and confused, crying for the human family that refused to move, Burelle was discovered by Leviticus, the then-leader of the Monnik tribe.
Leviticus was smitten by the pretty little red queenkit, and he immediately sidled up to her, offering his most charming smiles and assurances of assistance. It didn’t take much to convince Burelle to return to the abandoned warehouse the Monniks used s their communal gathering place. Once there, Burelle was immediately set upon by the older queens who whisked her off to take care of the “poor little dear.” The only queen who didn’t seem eager to help this newest acquisition of Leviticus’ was Griddlebone, who was a fairly new arrival herself. The white Persian, though, had cemented her place in Leviticus’ affections, and she did not relish the idea of sharing his attention with a kitten.
Within a year, Burelle was considered to be one of Leviticus’ mates, and by the time she was two years old, she was pregnant with her first litter. There was no doubt in anyone’s mind who the father was, and Burelle again found herself being coddled by the older queens, all of whom wanted to win Leviticus’ favor by helping his current favorite.
Burelle was terrified of her pregnancy, and even more of her body. With a bulging stomach and sore paws, how could she possibly keep Leviticus’ attention? Though young, she was fully aware that those who lost Leviticus’ favor usually ended up suffering. Griddlebone had never become pregnant. She never lost her enticing curves.
Burelle’s first litter consisted of six kittens, two queens and four toms. Her oldest, Macavity, was her favorite, but each of the kittens held a piece of her heart. She was frightened, though, by an old queen who advised her to “not love them, not until they survived their first month.” Burelle later wished she could have taken this advice to heart.
The kittens showed signs of magic at an early age, magic which Leviticus praised heavily. Macavity was the fastest learner, and even as Burelle grieved her kittens as they disappeared and were found dead, murdered by some fiend (Burelle suspected Griddlebone), she celebrated Macavity’s magical growth.
It wasn’t until she found her youngest, Ritzkin, dying, his throat torn open and sparkles gone from his fur, that Burelle put all the pieces together and realized that it was Macavity who continually slaughtered her other kittens, not Griddlebone. Somehow (and to this day, Burelle can’t explain it), she managed to hold Ritzkin together, keeping him alive while his throat slowly healed. Ritzkin explained to her what Macavity had done, and Burelle sent him off to find someplace else, someplace safe, where he could live without the fear of his brother.
By this time, Burelle had mothered a second litter, and was pregnant with a third. The second litter had not had any magic, to Leviticus’ dismay, and the third had been won by a long succession of seduction attempts. Burelle had studied Griddlebone, how she walked, how she talked, how she used her paws and nose and tail to catch the attention of all the toms around her. To keep Leviticus’ attention, she needed to use every tool she had been given.
When Burelle was pregnant with her fourth litter, Leviticus died. Some say he was hit by a car. Some say he drowned. Others say he was poisoned. Some say a human shot him. Some said he was simply old. The most commonly held belief, though, one that was whispered but never spoken aloud, was that Macavity killed him, Macavity, the magic cat, Macavity… his heir.
Burelle had no problems believing that Macavity was behind Leviticus’ death. He had grown distant from his mother, except whenever she had a new litter. She tried to keep the baby kittens from him, but somehow, they would wander off and into his paws, winding up missing. All of Burelle’s sons disappeared, and a few of her daughters went that way as well. More often than not, though, her daughters would get killed by a Pollicle or sickness or harsh winter. Still, Burelle knew that Macavity was a murderer. She just didn’t have any proof… or anyone to go to for help.
After Leviticus died, Burelle had a dilemma. She couldn’t seduce her oldest son – not only was that wrong on several levels, but she didn’t want Macavity touching her even if he wasn’t her son. Leviticus, at least, she could tolerate, even if she had learned he was a dirty, evil, old tom. Leviticus, at least, did not murder her kittens.
Without Macavity’s favor, though (and he didn’t favor her, though he didn’t abuse her, either. He ignored her, more often than not, and denied any relationship with her), Burelle was on her own. She turned her considerable powers of seduction on the other toms of the tribe, wooing them over to her side one at a time. While this kept her in their favor, and kept them from chasing her from the tribe or having a bit of sport with her, it also resulted in pregnancies five and six. Again, her tomkits disappeared mysteriously, and Burelle was growing frustrated with this whole “death of kittens” thing. After her sixth litter was weaned, Burelle swore off toms, claiming that twenty-nine kittens were enough, even if only eleven of them survived (twelve if she counted Ritzkin, who she didn’t know was still alive for sure).
Unfortunately for Burelle, the Monnik toms had not sworn off the seductive queen. By this point, flirting had become second nature to Burelle, and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it. Frustrated with her constant refusals of their advances, Burelle was beset by a group of toms one night. Though she struggled, they outnumbered her.
Burelle spent another almost-two months among the Monniks, making plans for her escape. She wasn’t sure where she would go, but she thought she might be able to find a place among the purebreds in their mansions. Her memories of her early life were few, but she did know she had a pedigree. Somewhere.
One cold night at the start of winter, Burelle snuck out. Two of her daughters, Jokaste and Smokkate, helped her get as far as the river before they retreated to the safety of their dens. Burelle set forth on her own, hoping to find shelter before her kittens were born. She ran into a Jellicle queen, Cassandra, and the rest, they say, is history.
Curculio
Known as the Weevil, Curculio is a ghastly looking cat. His muzzle is nearly constantly stained with blood, fresh and drying, and his ears are ragged. His coat is flecked with salt from sailing the seas, giving a white, crusty appearance to his usually smoke-colored fur. Soot, dust, and grime cover him, and he often has open wounds on his back, sores and claw marks.
The reason for Curculio’s appearance is his lack of a tongue. When he was a kitten, he and his best friend were captured by Grumbuskin. He had been a handsome kit, with bright orange eyes and soft, smoky fur. His friend, Phaedon, had been a banded tabby, with brown and grey fur that shimmered as he moved and blue eyes that never seemed to have lost their kittenhood color. Grumbuskin had been pleased with his prizes, and collared them both, putting them on leashes and turning them into his pets.
Phaedon had the misfortune of falling in love with Aneski, another of Grumbuskin’s captives. He had the even graver misfortune of having Grumbuskin find out. Furious at the idea that one of his slaves would dare even think about molesting one of his Things, Grumbuskin had Phaedon executed in front of everyone on board the ship, to prove his point. Phaedon had his tail cut off and eyes torn out. Grumbuskin then sliced his belly open and tore out his entrails, forcing the slave to eat his own guts until he died. He was then served to the rest of the slaves as their meals.
Curculio had started screaming when Phaedon was being executed, and he used every last curse he could think of, hurling the filthiest words he knew at Grumbuskin. He refused to eat his friend, and spat in Grumbuskin’s face.
This did not amuse the pirate.
Curculio, though, was spared a death, because Grumbuskin rather liked the convenience of his pets, and thought it would be a shame if they were both dead. Instead, he had his tongue cut out, so that he would never again insult Grumbuskin, and he was thoroughly whipped.
Over the years, Curculio has grown into a small but stocky cat, strong and muscular, though heavily scarred. His ears are tattered from the result of many battles, both with enemies and with Grumbuskin, and the wounds on his back and sides heal poorly due to his lack of hygiene. Curculio must depend on the kindness of other cats to stay clean… and most don’t have the time to bathe him, nor do they have the desire to touch his filthy coat.
Curculio is still Grumbuskin’s pet, though he’s rarely on a leash. He still wears a hemp collar, though. By this point, many years after Phaedon’s death, Curculio has been broken. He obeys Grumbuskin unquestionably, no matter what the order. Grumbuskin often rewards him with petting – usually involving claws – and the occasional, very rare but extremely cherished, bath. Despite his cruelty toward Curculio, and the nickname Grumbuskin gave him, Weevil, Curculio has developed a sort of infatuation with Grumbuskin and the pain he gives. If anything, Curculio gets upset and jealous whenever Grumbuskin turns his attention to another cat. Curculio also nurtures a bitterness deep within, and frequently strikes out at cats who shun him for his appearance.
Grumbuskin
Grumbuskin was Growltiger’s “bucko mate,” immortalized forever as going to “wet his beard” while Growltiger was attacked by the Siamese. To this day, Grumbuskin nurses a grudge against the Siamese for what they did to his friend and captain. The Persian also fear Grumbuskin, as the Lady Griddlebone, Growltiger’s betrayer, is still at large, and Grumbuskin still hunts her. White cats also suffer his wrath, for their resemblance to this most hated of queens.
For his part, Grumbuskin is a huge cat, a grey tabby who rivals the size of small Pollicles. He walks with a definite sway to his step, the result of spending years on a ship. He sports a ragged left ear, and the tip of his tail is actually pronged from where it had gotten sliced in two. This fork is only about a centimeter long, though, and usually well-hidden by his fur. Grumbuskin is liberally decorated with battle scars, and wears the marks of his victories proudly. He has the polydactyl mutation, and thus has extra toes – and extra claws! – on each of his paws, giving him the appearance of mittens.
Grumbuskin is a slave trader as well as a pirate, and he employs many slaves on his ships. Some, like Curculio, are used for fighting or pleasure, but most are kept chained to the oars. On Grumbuskin’s ship, the only rule of conduct toward slaves is that you cannot kill or maim a non-rower slave, and if you kill one of the rowers, it was up to you to find a replacement. Other than that, anything is allowed.
Grumbuskin’s favorite way of getting new slaves is coming into a settlement of cats as a friendly visitor, charming all the queens and befriending all the toms. He has a knack for getting along with kittens, and is always ready to tell them a story or play a game with them. After worming his way into the hearts of most of the cats, he and his crew sweep through, picking out their pre-selected victims. Kittens and small cats often stay with Grumbuskin as his personal slaves, while other particularly unique or beautiful cats get taken off to the slave markets to be sold or traded.
WARNING[/i] - If you end up in Grumbuskin's paws, he does not have any reservations against killing you. If you anger him, he might give you a, one, single warning... if he likes you. And then, if you mess up again, he'll kill you. He might not be as creative as he was with Phaedon, but he does NOT tolerate his slaves back-talking him.
Just ask Curculio.
Jokaste and Smokkate
[/center]Jokaste, left, and Smokkate, right
Jokaste and Smokkate are sisters but not twins. They are both tortoiseshell queens, black with red and cream splotches, and the daughters of Burelle and Leviticus. Jokaste is four now, from Burelle’s second litter, and Smokkate is three, from Burelle’s third. Jokaste is smaller than her younger sister, but she’s the cleverer of the two – though not by much. Smokkate is larger and stronger.
Jokaste and Smokkate are thieves and prostitutes, working together in a duo much like Mungojerrie and Rumpleteazer. Years of synchronizing their motions have given them the ability to move in unison as if they were identical twins, and their similar markings help perpetuate that myth. This duo, known commonly as Joke and Smoke, is a mischievous pair of cat burglars, and dangerous to boot. They are adept at dodging in fights, and as such, neither sport a single scar. When they are required to land a blow, their favorite move is a double kick, where they both swing around and give a powerful kick with their inside paws, striking their foe with two synchronized blows. The sisters are adept at finishing each other’s thoughts and sentences, and usually get along quite well. Even the one tom they both are trying to bed, Macavity, cannot turn them on each other.
Joke and Smoke are fond of their mother and sisters, being very close to their family. Neither are aware, though that Macavity is actually their oldest brother. While the pair gets spiteful and vindictive toward any queen who tries to move in on what they consider their territory, they make exceptions for blood relatives.
The two queens have longer fur and consider themselves quite beautiful. They share their mother’s green-gold eyes and learned much about the ways of seduction from her. Smokkate has never been a mother, but Jokaste has had a single litter of three kittens. Merade, her favorite daughter, is a disciple of this duo, and sometimes is even allowed to join them on their adventures as a third in a trio.