Fox

[Shor]

Name: Fox
Age: 21
Birthplace: The southernmost edge of Southsward
Gender: Male
Species: Fox
Job/Position: Professional Wanderer
Physical Description:

Fox stands at a rather average height for a fox. A former farmer, he is solidly built, bearing particularly thick arms. That said, Fox is, by no means, intimidating. He is also quite fit, with no fat to weigh him down, though this is partly due to a less-than-satisfying amount of rations. This might change were he to stay in one place for longer than a season, as he has been known to eat more food than a hare.

Fox has decent enough posture, though he does slouch just a bit too much not to be a farmer. His eyes portray no particular emotion, really, though he may often be caught beaming confidently -- usually when he has figured something out. His face is generally neutral, and he forgets to make expressions sometimes, so I suppose he can be a bit of an intimidating character to others. It isn't really his fault, though.
As for hygiene, Fox is voluntarily unfamiliar with the concept. He doesn't really see why everything should be so clean. That said, he will, however reluctantly, wash his paws when others who take such things so seriously ask it of him.

Fox is covered head to footpaw in brownish-red fur and possesses two big golden eyes. Interestingly, he rarely makes eye contact, often simply glancing at nothing in particular. This is not so much a trait born of shyness as it is one born of perception. . .

Belongings:

Fox, for the most part, wears a simple green tunic; sometimes, it's a white one. Either way, he's covered in dirt. As for trousers, he wears them, and he has footwear too! His footpaws are hidden in two black, brown boots (the brown comes from dirt). Incidentally, Fox was not always the dirt-covered beast he is today. Indeed, he used to be covered in soot. But after a while, the constant smell of smoke gets on a fox's nerves, so he traded in the soot for dirt. He's a farmer by heart anyhow.

Really, the only dirt-free article of clothing he owns is a flat cap, which rests upon his head at all times. He likes flat caps.

Fox does carry what would technically qualify as a weapon, but he really doesn't consider himself the fighting type. Unfortunately, no, he is not one of those luckybeasts who have inherited magical swords from their fathers. No, Fox's sword is one that he fashioned himself, though it wasn't one of his best works -- he couldn't possibly afford one of those!

Personality:

On the outside, Fox the fox is unusual for a verminbeast. That is to say, he is peaceful. In fact, he rather hates fighting, though mostly because he seldom wins any sort of scuffle. He'd much rather simply have everybeast like him, but vermin don't much appreciate a nice fox. Therefore, he spends most of his time with goodbeasts. Of course, there is far more to the story than that -- he actually prefers the gentlebeasts over his own kind. He never could stand the constant bragging over how this fox killed this mousie, how quickly this vixen murdered some hedgehog, or how surprisingly easy it was to start a fire in a shrew's home. It is all absolutely abhorrent to Fox, who doesn't much understand why on earth his friends find the murdering of peaceful beasts a praise-worthy endeavor.

Fox is not the most tactful beast out there. He enjoys sarcasm and has a somewhat dry sense of humor. Raised by and around foxes, his etiquette speaks for itself. He is blunt, often to the point of being rebuked by elderly mousewives who think him terribly rude. For instance, if he needs to describe an incident involving a roundish-looking mole with a speech impediment, Fox might begin by asking, "Y'know that fat mole who talks like a drunken dibbun?" This elicits a furrowed brow coupled with an aghast reply, or the occasional slap across the face from some snobby ladybeast. It really isn't Fox's fault, for he sees his actions as totally acceptable. That said, he has improved a bit since his first stay at squirrels' house.

Fox, strangely enough, is an honest beast who is outwardly what he is inwardly. He is willing to discuss his darker secrets; after all, he'll likely be leaving in a day or two, and he's not likely to ever see y'again.
Fox is ambitious. He wants to change the world, but he doesn't yet know how. He'll let you know it too, unafraid to express his dream or its main hindrance.
Wandering is likely the way to go about changing the world, he thinks, but on the other paw, Fox just likes to meet new beasts. They are so interesting -- how could any fox not be fascinated by them? Fox watches beasts sometimes, when he is not speaking with them, and he sees potential in every one. When he does begin to speak with a beast, Fox will do so enthusiastically and frequently. It is difficult to get him to stop, but on the other paw, he is so honest, so himself that most beasts tend to enjoy simply listening. Fox would be content talking with any one beast for hours, especially the interesting ones.

What motivates Fox in all he does is, in fact, his father. Fox, though repeatedly assured that his father had died and reminded that he'd witnessed it happen, believes that his father is alive. Fox is not so much in denial as he is convinced. Fox claims to have seen his father shortly after he allegedly died. It is this belief that has driven Fox to change the world. His father had wanted to make a change in his own kin first. Foxes, he believed, should be at peace with the mice. He also believes that Fox could inspire every inhabitant of Mossflower to give up their warlike behavior. Why cannot the vermin forsake their violence, and why cannot the gentlebeasts give vermin the opportunity to change?

History:

Fox's parent's weren't very creative. That alone becomes clear when Fox introduces himself. The next to become clear is the sort of place he was raised. Fox's father, Roak, was a farmer who would not tolerate lazybeasts in his household. Other families could be as lazy as they wanted, but Roak's would do things right. This would later affect Fox's growth as a mature gentlebeast significantly.

Roak was an interesting fox. He was a peaceful farmer, not given to fits of anger. He was unusually friendly to guests, for it was always said of his home, "The only ones who knock are those who have never visited before." It has even been rumored that mice had been welcomed once or twice before.
At the same time, Roak was a warrior. While he was not involved in the war at N'Tashi's fort, he was a soldier in his clan's own little army. He was always the first to step onto the battlefield and the last to leave. Roak was a true warrior, a sort of hero among the fox clan.

Now, the clan had experienced peace for seasons, and Roak had plenty of time to raise his son and manage a small farm. It wasn't until Fox reached the age of seven that the army became active again. At that time, vermin from the northern regions of Southsward, driven out of the squirrels' land, were attempting to overtake the land of the clan. Roak found himself without much time to spend with his family. His wife and son likewise found themselves laden with the responsibility of maintaining the farm. Unfortunately, even as Fox grew into a young fox of seventeen seasons, the situation did not improve. Roak had less time than ever with his family as the war began to escalate. Otters and some squirrels from western Southsward had tried to intervene, but this seemed only to add to the problems. Fox considered joining what was left of the clan's army, but his mother would not have it, and Roak had threatened to kill Fox, were the youngbeast to die in battle. Fox felt disappointed at this, for most of his childhood friends were already fighting in the war, but then, Fox was in a different situation. None of his friends had a responsibility to take care of their mothers or farms to tend. So, Fox continued to live restlessly, supporting his mother and maintaining the small farm as best he could.

That is, until his father died. A group sent from the army to gather supplies included Roak. The foxes were merely stopping in to gather supplies and to dispose of something they had picked up along the way. It was a mouse. Fox could see the hatred in his father's eyes the mouse was hauled in to the center of the town. The foxes debated as to whether or not torturing the creature would be of any use to them. Finally, one charged up to kill it and settle the problem, but something struck the hasty beast with surprising force. Everybeast turned their heads to see what had sent the attacker sprawling. There, in front of the mouse, arms spread protectively, was Roak. He glanced around as they began to murmur, and, realizing that attempting to explain would be futile, Roak cut the mouse loose from its bindings. In an instant, the poor creature was darting madly into the woods.

Roak fought valiantly and with such force and passion that it frightened Fox. It was no bloodwrath, but nobeast expected such power to come from such a peaceful beast. Strength in numbers, however, ultimately overtook Roak, and he went down under the fists and claws. In a flash, another fox, big and powerful, was in the fray, scattering the others in an attempt to save Roak. But Fox, who had jumped in immediately after the first blow, had seen his father fall. Two beasts died that day.

Days later, a physically battered and emotionally torn Fox was brought to the abode of the large fox who had tried to rescue Roak. Coll, the blacksmith, was one of Roak's closest friends. His home was his forge, a place where Fox could stay for a time. But most importantly, it was an opportunity to support himself and his mother. Coll offered to provide all the food and shelter that Fox and his mother would need, provided that Fox agreed to work under the blacksmith as an apprentice of sorts. It would be much easier than trying to survive off the farm, and safer than living out in an open field. Fox agreed absently, not really paying any attention. (Coll was delighted that the young fox had accepted the offer, for he had lost his only son in the war months before.)

But first, Fox asked to visit his former home. He told Coll that he wanted to take care of a few final matters. In reality, he just needed time alone to come to terms with his father's death. Fox returned within three days, eyes wide with excitement and fear. He claimed to have seen Roak, that his father was alive. Nobeast believed him, of course, but Fox, unabashed, tried to convince Coll to come with him to the house. The blacksmith simply shook his head and told Fox to get some sleep.

Something else had occurred during Fox's stay at the farm. He had met a squirrel, an escaped prisoner of war. He was about Fox's age, but taller and stronger. He called himself Crew. Crew was, like Fox, the son of a warrior, but unlike Fox, Crew had succeeded in fighting in the war -- he had sneaked from his home a week before. Unfortunately, he was captured by vermin almost immediately.

For some reason, Fox and Crew became instant friends. Neither thought much of their species' rivalry, and the pair spent two days discussing the possibility of establishing peace between the two groups. Within forty-eight hours, they both held a common goal.

During the following two seasons, Fox worked under Coll, learning everything from weaponry to locks -- the latter was his favorite bit. Fox never abandoned the belief that his father was alive; he simply kept it to himself. Occasionally, at night, when Coll was fast asleep, Fox would sneak out of the house to visit the farm. Crew was living there for the time being, and with every opportunity they found, the two friends talked about their plans.

Soon, Crew grew bolder. He would wait on the edge of the town, hidden until Fox showed. The squirrel tried to convince Fox to hurry up and do something, insisting that plans would accomplish nothing if not followed by action. Fox hesitated, knowing full well the risks of turning against his own kind. There was a feast that day. Crew told Fox that it was the perfect time to make a move. Fox spotted just the opportunity, but his confidence faltered for a moment. That's when he heard shouts from the streets. Crew was walking down the road nonchalantly; the squirrel flashed a smile at his friend. If Fox wasn't going to do anything on his own, Crew would.

The squirrel was taken captive just as the mouse had been, and just as Roak had done, Fox freed the captive. But this time, Fox ran.

The two traveled quickly. Nobeast seemed to be following them, which meant either that nobeast considered them a threat, or that the pair's tactic of "run faster" was working. Once certain that they were in safe territory and unlikely to be followed, they slowed and began to discuss their plan once more. Step one had been successful, for the most part: follow Roak's example but live to tell about it. But they had overlooked something: supplies. Fox had brought his sword, but he seemed to have left their food somewhere back in the town. Fortunately, Crew was an excellent fisher. As long as they remained near some body of water, they would have food.

Step two was more of a guideline to be followed throughout the execution of the plan. Crew and Fox visited the homes of gentlebeasts with the intention of befriending the inhabitants. It was difficult, but possible. The first home they visited was that of a family of squirrels. Fox had nearly found himself with an arrow in his foot, to which Crew responded with a quaint smile, "Oh, they're archers."

Step three was somewhat simple: find the abbey. Crew had heard that Fort N'Tashi had fallen, which meant that the legendary Redwall would be back. Fox knew nothing of the abbey, but Crew had heard stories of it since he was a dibbun.

So far, they're working toward step three.

Code Words: [[Generally right, but for you, wrong.]]

[Tirael]

Eh, it'll do. But I'll not be happy about it.

Accepted.