Dakker Kane Outmir

[greek101]

Name: Dakker Kane Outmir
Age: 11 years old
Birthplace: The lands East of Mossflower in a large vermin horde
Gender: Male
Species: Weasel
Job/Position: Insane wandering killer
Physical Description:

Dakker used to be a healthy, well built and fairly strong…when he was young. Now, his description is far from that, with help from Daddy of course and a bad patch up job.

By looks, Dakker looks as mutilated as his mind is. He isn’t very tall, in fact he is a little on the shorter side, but his large paws give the forewarning of a large growth spurt when he gets older, if he ever lives that long. His build is lanky and appears very thin, like his body was caught during an uncomfortable growth spurt and never evened out. His tail is crooked, like it was broken in half and never put back. His spine is similar; it is a bit crooked, affecting the way he stands. Even when standing tall, Dakker always leans a bit to the right. This crookedness is also affected by the fact his right leg is a bit shorter than the other, for when it was reset, it healed funny. So he now walks with a slight limp, it only slows him down a bit. He can run, however, just with a very odd gait. Dakker’s face is even prettier than the rest of his body.His right ear had been severed, so now he only has the bottom half. His muzzle is a bit crooked and his left eye lid is permanently half closed over his almost lazy, pale golden eye, the same color as his other eye adding to Dakker’s already demented appearance.

His fur color is much like that of his father’s. It is a faded crimson with a pale underbelly, however, Dakker’s fur is molted and sticks out every which way. It grows in patches and is constantly shedding. It used to be a clean healthy coat when he was younger, but after the brutal beating by his father, the resulting scar tissue from various scars all over his body doesn’t allow his fur to grow back properly. Not that Dakker really cares anyway.

Dakker wears his only set of clothing, which is never clean. He wears a pair of tan pants, with the right leg cut short to accommodate the unevenness of his legs. He also wears a black sash to hold the pants up. On his torso he wears a torn red shirt and a black vest. All of his clothing articles are soiled with over a week’s worth of dirt. The only washing they may get is if Dakker happens to wander through a river or stands outside in the rain.

Belongings:

Dakker does not own much. He has the clothes on his back and two knives. His insane mind never let him think about taking anything with him when he left Halfear’s home. In fact, he burned the home when he left. He eats what he can find or steal and doesn’t care about much else.

Personality:

Dakker can be described in one word: insane. He is thoroughly and completely insane. His mind operates in its old world.

Death makes him happy. It is appealing to him. He loves to watch death. It escaped him so long ago and he has ever longed for it. Now he thinks of it as a rival. He meets his old friend death everyday, never really getting to meet him, only introducing other creatures to him. Such a fun old friend he is. Dakker loves introducing people to his good old friend, hoping that one day, maybe he can see death. He talks with death a lot. Sure, it may appear that there is no one, but Dakker knows he’s there. Death is always there. Always beside Dakker, death never leaves his side.

Dakker does know one way, in which he sees Death, through the lifeblood of other creatures. The smell, the salty iron smell, the thick oozing texture, the slow pumping sound as it leaks from the creature’s heart, Dakker loves it all. Dakker can’t get enough of lifeblood. Sometimes Dakker will bite his own tongue, just to taste the metallic flavor.

Dakker also has a bad side. Death makes him angry. Death never stays! He’s always just beyond reach! He will toy with Dakker. He will make Dakker feel pain and fall ill. Dakker will fight with death, but he never wins. It’s always a stalemate and death holds the fight of until later. It makes Dakker so angry!

Past events have no real effect on Dakker. They happened. So what! Let them happen again! It might bring old friend death closer! His father was the first one who introduced death to Dakker. Sure, Dakker had seen death from time to time in the horde, but Redin started Dakker’s continuous battle. Dakker, almost thanks his Father for it. He brought Dakker’s sister and Dakker’s mother to meet Death as well, but oddly enough, Dakker doesn’t find it fair. They got to see death, and he did not. And for that reason he also hates his father.

Dakker is insane, thoroughly and completely insane.

Strengths:

Killer instincts

Dakker, although insane, has natural killer instincts. He is knowledgeable in stealth and different methods of murder. He however doesn’t care much for the clean up job. Once the deed has been done, Dakker moves on.

Imitator

Dakker has a unique talent in vocal imitation. Once he hears a voice he can mimic the voice almost to perfection. He can master dialects, vocal patterns, slurs, etc. within seconds.

Weaknesses:

Talking to oneself

Dakker believes, in his mind, that Death is always with him and he will often talk to Death, even if other creatures are around. By looks it appears as if Dakker is talking to no one, yet responses as if there is really some beast there.

No Sense of Self Preservation

Dakker doesn’t take care of himself. Sure when he is hungry he will eat, and when he is thirsty he will drink, but other than that, he does not seem to notice what happens to his body. He will walk through the cold winter’s snow, body shivering, but he will not recognize that it is cold and that he needs to get to shelter. If he is cold, he will simply stay cold until it gets warmer, or vice versa. If he is dirty then Dakker will just go on with life, he will eventually be clean, or somewhat clean anyway.

History:

Dakker Kane Outmir was born the first son of a Horde Leader in the lands East of Mossflower. His Father, The Scythe (aka Redin Outmir) didn’t care much for Dakker, and Dakker not much for him. He knew who is father was and the position he held, but Dakker didn’t care much for what he did. He had the same feelings with his mother. She was an ambitious weasel who was power hungry and worked on turning the horde against Dakker’s father. Dakker didn’t care what his parents were up too. Being very young, all he cared about was getting what he wanted and staying alive. Neither of which were hard to master. Being the son of both influences of power in the horde, the horde creatures were careful not to upset Dakker. Whether they feared the wrath of his father or his mother, Dakker didn’t care. All he knew is that if he began to whine for his parents in front of the other creatures, they stopped doing what they were doing and were obedient to Dakker’s whims.

When Dakker’s little sister, Isillia, was born, Dakker felt even more ignored by his parents, mostly his mother, but again, Dakker resented his sister, but forced himself to shrug it off. She was just a crying screaming brat, nothing more; he had more interesting work to do. Dakker would spend his days watching the Horde from various hiding spots. He didn’t care much for what they were saying, but he watched the way they fought and killed each other and others. Dakker’s curiosity was spiked. He wanted to know how to do that! He wanted to know how to be a merciless killer and how to make every beast fear his name. He also wanted to explore this new craving he had, for blood. He watched as it poured from dying creature’s bodies. It smelled metallic, and inviting…

At the age of four he began toying with a small little knife he had stolen off one of the horde beasts. In his little mind he was going to become the evilest, vilest killer this horde had ever seen and the dripping blood of his victims would be his trademark! He would practice killing what ever he could get his paws on: bugs, dead carcasses, his meals, anything.

His childhood dream, however was not to be, or at least the way he pictured it.

While he was still four, Dakker watched one day as his Father was arguing with his mother. It was not uncommon to see them argue, but his father seemed to be angrier then normal. In fact, the entire horde seemed to be angry just waiting to let it out on one another. His parents began to fight. Dakker watched as his father beat down his mother. His mother, that bold and powerful, died at the cruel paws of his father. . Dakker knew she was dead. He didn’t have to be beside her to know, she was dead. Her lifeblood spilled onto the ground. Dakker could smell the metallic sent of the oozing blood.

Dakker’s father spun around, and Dakker saw his eyes. They were enraged. Dakker could not tell if his father was thinking clearly or not. By guess he was not, but Dakker would never find out. Dakker tried to flee, but he couldn’t. His father caught him and began to beat him. Dakker couldn’t fight back! His father was too strong.

Pain, pain. That was all Dakker remembered. Pain. Blow after blow fell upon his small body. He could feel his small bones crack under the pressure of his father’s paws. Eventually, Dakker blacked out, falling unconscious to his father’s cruelty.

Dakker’s half-dead body was thrown into a ditch along with his mother and his sister’s bodies. Redin had beaten Isillia as well as Dakker. Both children appeared to be dead like their mother, however they were not totally dead, nor totally alive.

When Dakker regained enough consciousness to open the only eye he could see out off, the only thing he could see was his dying sister lying in the rocky ditch beside him. Her tiny little body was even more mutilated than his felt. Blood seeped from her broken muzzle as she struggled to breathe with her chest crushed and spine snapped. The same metallic sent from before, entered his broken nose.

Blood, she was bleeding. Her lifeblood was slowly seeping from her broken body. She was dying. Dakker watched as she slowly inhaled and exhaled. She was always the loved one by mother. Everyone expected so much out of Isillia, but did anyone expect anything out of him? No! Did they even fear him? No! Well, if she got everything, then she could die first!

Using his only working paw, Dakker grabbed a sharp rock and stabbed the rock into his sister’s broken chest. Once, twice, three times, he thrust that rock into his little sister’s chest. With one last chocking breath, Isillia died, with a rock in her chest.

Dakker smiled, or as best he could with his mutilated mouth. Her blood smelled so inviting, so invigorating. But then again, his own blood tasted even better as it seeped into his mouth. Dakker coughed and fell unconscious once more, due to pain and blood loss. To the average eye, all of the beasts in the ditch were dead.

Unknown to any other beast, one creature watched Redin’s disposal of his family. It was an old rat by the name of Halfear, due to his only having half an ear on his left side. Halfear had been a loyal follower of Dakker’s mother, who had a soft spot for little ones, but of course he never told any beast that.

After watching Redin throw his family in the ditch and disappear, Halfear went down into the ditch in hopes of burying the bodies of the young ones. However, when he touched Dakker’s body he discovered that by some miracle, he was still breathing! It was a very slow and ragged breath, but it was still a breath!

Taking Dakker’s broken body; Halfear climbed the ditch and fled west from the horde. He knew that Dakker was no longer safe in the horde. Halfear’s dream was to heal Dakker and raise him to be a deadly horde leader who would be able to avenge the death of his mother and rule the horde just like Halfear dreamed.

On the bordering edge of Mossflower near a small river Halfear came upon a little home built by a lonely hermit. Halfear killed the hermit and clamed the small shack of a home his own. Knowing very little of healing, Halfear tried to put all of Dakker’s bones back together and put bandages on his wounds.

The patch up job only some what worked. When Dakker finely regain consciousness almost a full season later, his body was horribly mutilated and his mind warped. Dakker could not move for many a season, so he was forced to sit and listen to Halfear’s ramblings of how great his mother was and how horrible his father was and how he was going to be this great horde leader. To tell the truth, Dakker remembered everything that had happened before, but he did not care. He had a new friend to talk to, and his name was Death.

When Dakker was about seven, he finally had gained the strength to stand again. At this time Halfear decided that Dakker was ready for training! Day after day, the old rat tried to teach Dakker how to kill. Dakker didn’t care for Halfear’s teachings. He knew how to kill. The teachings just gave him an excuse to kill. How desperately Dakker wanted to kill Halfear! He wanted Halfear to meet his friend Death. Death was always in the little house, but Halfear never saw him. Only Dakker did. And only Dakker could hear Death.

So Dakker waited and waited. Going along with Halfear’s silly little games, until the time was right…

When Dakker was ten, he could wait no more. Halfear was getting old, really old. And when Halfear was sleeping, Dakker awoke, grabbed the pan that was used for supper that night, and snuck over to Halfear’s bed. Leaning over, he whispered into Halfear’s good ear, the best he could remember of his mother’s voice. “Now my loyal Halfear, you have served my well. Prepare for your reward, for it is greater than your wildest dreams.” Halfear smiled in his sleep, ready to receive his reward.

Dakker brought Halfear’s reward quickly, slamming the pan down on Halfear’s head, three times. Halfear was dead. Dakker cackled to himself in his own voice. “Now Halfear, meet my friend Death, for he is your reward!”

And with that, Dakker threw away the pan. He went to the fire that was slowly burning away and stroked the flames till they burned high. Then he took what ever he could lay his paws on and threw them into the flames. Laughing to himself and calling out to his friend Death, Dakker fled from the house as it burned to the ground and into the woods.

Dakker has wandered the realm of Mossflower wood since then, killing as he pleases and chatting with his friend Death, totally insane.


((P.S. Maxodis and I have been in contact and he has allowed me to use his character.))

Code Words: CORRECT

[Tirael]

Well, the Outmirs are just plain screwed up, aren't they?

Accepted.