Kilo

[kilothetoxxicfoxx]

Name: Kilo
Age: 23 give-or-take. (time wasn't recorded in the far North he's from as well as it is in Mossflower.)
Birthplace: Far North, Arctic Wilderness
Gender: Male
Alignment: Neutral Evil
Species: Arctic Fox
Job/Position: Mercenary, adept at Blacksmithing
Physical Description:

Kilo is tall and thin, when standing at full height (which he rarely does) he typically stands at least a head taller than some of the larger beasts (barring creatures like badgers of course) though even the smaller ones typically match him in sheer weight. his fur is weathered and, while cared for, looks like it's seen better days. Kilo's fur changes its colour based on the season, in warmer seasons like summer, it is a mottled grey and black, reminiscent of the long-passed Marlfoxes, though he shares no blood with them; in colder seasons like Winter, his fur is a pure white, and, like his summer coat does in the leaves and shadow, acts as camouflage in the snow. his attire is a simple tunic shrouded by a dark longcoat and a grey scarf that might've been white at some time, upon closer inspection, small bloodstains can be seen in the greying folds. Kilo is known to use a green dye made from berries and other ingredients to dye parts of his fur, such as his tailtip of which he is very vain. Kilo holds himself with an air of confidence and moves as though he always has something to do, an effect that tends to make others think he's capable of anything.

Belongings:

Aside from the clothes he wears, Kilo owns little apart from a few necessary tools and his weaponry. two "short" (short being relative that is) swords, belted to his left side and lower back, a glaive which doubles as a walking staff, and a strong, but lightweight length of chain that he keeps wrapped hidden around his left wrist, this chain is strong enough to stop most blows, but would likely snap if held taut and struck by a weapon.

Personality:

Kilo isn't out for anyone but himself, he is fiercely loyal to anybeast who employs him, but only as long as the contract holds him. otherwise, he will do anything for anybeast given the right price. he is amoral, sadistic, can be downright cruel, and never holds ideas like honor or fighting fair hold him back. as he thinks "Honor is the excuse of fools unwilling to do whatever it takes to triumph". he has an air of confidence about him that sometimes has the effect of making others think he can do anything, an idea he likes to encourage, but it makes him cocky and easily gets into trouble, though fate always seems to give him a way to get away. an adept blacksmith, he created and maintains his own weaponry and dosn't allow anybeast else near them, partly due to a sort of reverence about them, but also because he has a habit of coating his blades in a lethal toxin, giving him his nickname, "The Toxic Fox"

History:

Kilo lived in the Far Northlands where it was nearly always snowing. food was scarce and heat even moreso; by far one of the most popular ways to get both, was by fighting. being locked in combat was a great way to warm the body, and , whether from pillaging from the loser or as payment for services rendered, a reliable way to get food as well. Kilo grew up in that life, learned to look after himself because nobeast else was going to. his first kill was bloody, he was hiding in a cave he found when he was naught but a kit, the sounds of battle from the outside echoing in the stone chamber, somebeast entered the cave where, in an effort to protect himself and his meger food, Kilo ambushed him and beat the beast to death with a large stone. throughout the years, Kilo grew more adept at the art of battle, and fought as a mercenary for several bands of marauders, often switching sides once his terms expired; after all, without war, he was without work, and without food. after several years, during which time he learned to smith, he grew tired of the constant struggle just to survive, and left the northlands. he traveled south until he hit Mossflower wood and was amazed at the abundance of food. exploring the region, he came across abandoned battlegrounds, he was morbidly happy that there was still conflict in what he otherwise considered a paradise, a way to ply the trade he knew so well. he camped by a stream that night, but woke to a family of otters, which he attempted to offer his services, as they looked ready for battle and he knew nothing of the goodbeat/vermin stigma in Mossflower. surprised by the sudden attack, he fled the area; though is still ignorant of the racism in Mossflower; where he came from, such things were trivial compared to the constant wars and daily struggle for survival. now, with only a working understanding of Mossflower and the surrounding areas, he roams the woods looking to sell his sword. goodbeast or vermin, good or evil, liberator or conqueror, he dosn't care, so long as he gets paid.

[Treble Tiderunner]

He's accepted, but I would like to request that you actually pin down his age, please. Thanks and welcome to the site!