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I'll see if I can elbow Prince into posting again; I know if Dmytra is AWOL that might not be completely effective, but at the very least he could close out the conversation with Avalon and the scene can move forward from there.
I'm still interested; just been wrapping up summer classes and getting ready to start the fall semester in a week, so I haven't had much time. (I also don't feel like Ritka would be doing anything at this point, so if I wrote a post now it'd be filler and I'd rather avoid that.)
Ritka: Alley adjacent to Boar's Head Tavern
After almost a week in Gandryll's capital, Ritka was beginning to regret the slapdash nature of the plan that had brought her here. It had been too long since she'd been in a city, surrounded by the constant press and bustle of people, and so she'd entered the gate as a rat in the back of a farmer's wagon instead of as a woman. This, however, had meant that she'd been able to bring no clothing with her, and as she could hardly go before the King's advisor nude, her movements were limited. It didn't help that she'd been unable to glean any information about Avalon's activities. The rumors told her that he was important - but that was all. There was nothing around which she could plan, and she would not risk her own skin entering the palace without that.
She'd found an alleyway near the Forest, not too far into the city to be heavily trafficked or inhabited by itinerant humans, and dug herself a little burrow under the back step of an inn there, disguising it as best she could by dragging some nearby litter over the opening. The number of humans who disliked untidiness was smaller than the number who disliked rats, so she deemed it a worthwhile endeavor. Just to be sure, though, on her third day in the city Ritka dug a second tunnel out. She slept uneasy nights in the burrow, her tiny body curled tightly around itself to conserve warmth. Some of her dreams were of sleeping in a burrow of other rats - and some were human dreams, of family and then of fear, the former never without the latter.
The tavern, while clean-swept, wasn't the neatest of establishments, and as they often dumped their food waste in the alley Ritka didn't have to go far to scavenge. The taste of spoiled food had bothered her once, but no longer; though the way it lingered in her mouth no matter how many times she licked her teeth did keep her mind always on the goal: find Avalon, sell him her services, live a better and more comfortable life.
It was the thought of that that drove her into the inn one night - well, the thought, and the sound of someone singing 'Sailor, Sailor', a song she hadn't heard since leaving Afon. Ritka didn't get homesick often, or really at all, as she didn't have a home to long for - but that melody, and the happy off-key voices of the tavern patrons joining in, was one of the friendliest things she'd heard in a long time. So when one of the serving girls opened the door and stepped out for a breath of fresh air, Ritka scurried in between her feet. She hugged the wall as tightly as she could, glancing up at the towering humans moving around her, staying in shadows wherever available. A few glimpses of the innkeeper in the past had given her an impression of a no-nonsense woman, and she'd been chased out with a broom more than her fair share of times in her life.
She settled into the far corner of the bar, where it joined the wall and was most poorly lit, crouching down to watch and listen. From her hiding place she couldn't see the source of the music, but she could hear a clear voice and the notes of a harp among those singing along. The musician, whoever they were, was clearly skilled. To her sensitive ears, it was almost note-perfect. Ritka sat, perfectly still but for the twitching of her nose until the song finished. Then, as the tavern's patrons began to move and the musician played the opening notes of a new tune, she left her hiding place to run from table to table seeking scraps. The floor was reasonably clear of dirt, indicating that it had been swept recently, but with the room as full as it was that had probably been before the supper rush. True to her expectations, she found some small fragments of food littering the floor underneath most of the tables she could reach. With quick, nervous movements Ritka devoured fallen crumbs of bread, chunks of potato, and even a few dropped fragments of meat. All of it was fresher than anything she'd eaten in the last week, and richer than all the grains she had ever scavenged in the wild. A vision of herself, human, filling her stomach at a table groaning under the weight of the food it carried rose in her mind - she pushed it down, focusing on the situation at hand. Easier to feed the tiny body of a rat, and she still had no guarantee she would be able to find Avalon at all, let alone that he would accept her offer. Now was not the time to dream.
Having surveyed most of the tavern's floor, Ritka returned to her corner of the bar - to find the musician from earlier seated there, the harp on the floor leaning against the bar wall. She waited, studying the human as she'd learned to in her years as a spy. He was skinny, the shirt he wore draping in a way that suggested it had been sewn for a larger frame - maybe his; but then, maybe it'd been stolen. Shaggy white hair - that was unusual. She crept forward, sniffing curiously at the harp itself. Ritka had had little contact with musical instruments, but she'd seen fine wood before, and for all it was slightly worn that harp had the look. Interesting. The harpist shifted his weight slightly and Ritka startled, continuing in her path along the bar - wouldn't want to be seen as a threat to his instrument. Her nose twitched at the smell of dinner from above, and she scanned the floor under the bar for more food as hunger surged in her belly again. No luck.
There was a quiet sound behind her and she turned to see a chunk of bread, its edges wet with soup, and a hand retreating back above the bar counter. Ritka approached cautiously, but the smell overcame her and she dashed forward, sinking her teeth into the bread and turning around to bound for the back door with her prize. It was almost too large for her to carry, and she stumbled once, but made it safely back to her burrow. In the relative safety of her sleeping chamber she crouched over the bread, nibbling at its edges and savoring the uncommon richness of its taste. She fell asleep with a few tiny crumbs still in her whiskers, and her stomach fuller than it had been for a long while.
Ordinarily Ritka slept long hours, but the next day she was woken slightly after sunrise by loud voices and the rumbling of a cart being dragged through her alley. She crept out after it had passed, unable to settle the nerves that had been set jangling by the sudden noise. There was a lump of something in the middle of the alley, and after a quick glance in either direction she scurried out to examine it up close. It proved to be a shoe, though not of the ordinary workaday type most people she'd seen wore: this shoe had embroidery at the toe and around the top, and the leather's smell told her it had been recently oiled. The best wares, brought out for a special occasion, most likely. Something was going on in the city. And a large event meant opportunity. If she could collect dropped food and store it away, she'd have more time to search out information about Avalon. If there was dropped coin... ordinarily Ritka would have stolen clothes long before, but in the close quarters of the city she couldn't risk it. Coin that might be left in place of garments, though, gave her options. Whatever was going on, she decided, she needed to be there.
After almost a week in Gandryll's capital, Ritka was beginning to regret the slapdash nature of the plan that had brought her here. It had been too long since she'd been in a city, surrounded by the constant press and bustle of people, and so she'd entered the gate as a rat in the back of a farmer's wagon instead of as a woman. This, however, had meant that she'd been able to bring no clothing with her, and as she could hardly go before the King's advisor nude, her movements were limited. It didn't help that she'd been unable to glean any information about Avalon's activities. The rumors told her that he was important - but that was all. There was nothing around which she could plan, and she would not risk her own skin entering the palace without that.
She'd found an alleyway near the Forest, not too far into the city to be heavily trafficked or inhabited by itinerant humans, and dug herself a little burrow under the back step of an inn there, disguising it as best she could by dragging some nearby litter over the opening. The number of humans who disliked untidiness was smaller than the number who disliked rats, so she deemed it a worthwhile endeavor. Just to be sure, though, on her third day in the city Ritka dug a second tunnel out. She slept uneasy nights in the burrow, her tiny body curled tightly around itself to conserve warmth. Some of her dreams were of sleeping in a burrow of other rats - and some were human dreams, of family and then of fear, the former never without the latter.
The tavern, while clean-swept, wasn't the neatest of establishments, and as they often dumped their food waste in the alley Ritka didn't have to go far to scavenge. The taste of spoiled food had bothered her once, but no longer; though the way it lingered in her mouth no matter how many times she licked her teeth did keep her mind always on the goal: find Avalon, sell him her services, live a better and more comfortable life.
It was the thought of that that drove her into the inn one night - well, the thought, and the sound of someone singing 'Sailor, Sailor', a song she hadn't heard since leaving Afon. Ritka didn't get homesick often, or really at all, as she didn't have a home to long for - but that melody, and the happy off-key voices of the tavern patrons joining in, was one of the friendliest things she'd heard in a long time. So when one of the serving girls opened the door and stepped out for a breath of fresh air, Ritka scurried in between her feet. She hugged the wall as tightly as she could, glancing up at the towering humans moving around her, staying in shadows wherever available. A few glimpses of the innkeeper in the past had given her an impression of a no-nonsense woman, and she'd been chased out with a broom more than her fair share of times in her life.
She settled into the far corner of the bar, where it joined the wall and was most poorly lit, crouching down to watch and listen. From her hiding place she couldn't see the source of the music, but she could hear a clear voice and the notes of a harp among those singing along. The musician, whoever they were, was clearly skilled. To her sensitive ears, it was almost note-perfect. Ritka sat, perfectly still but for the twitching of her nose until the song finished. Then, as the tavern's patrons began to move and the musician played the opening notes of a new tune, she left her hiding place to run from table to table seeking scraps. The floor was reasonably clear of dirt, indicating that it had been swept recently, but with the room as full as it was that had probably been before the supper rush. True to her expectations, she found some small fragments of food littering the floor underneath most of the tables she could reach. With quick, nervous movements Ritka devoured fallen crumbs of bread, chunks of potato, and even a few dropped fragments of meat. All of it was fresher than anything she'd eaten in the last week, and richer than all the grains she had ever scavenged in the wild. A vision of herself, human, filling her stomach at a table groaning under the weight of the food it carried rose in her mind - she pushed it down, focusing on the situation at hand. Easier to feed the tiny body of a rat, and she still had no guarantee she would be able to find Avalon at all, let alone that he would accept her offer. Now was not the time to dream.
Having surveyed most of the tavern's floor, Ritka returned to her corner of the bar - to find the musician from earlier seated there, the harp on the floor leaning against the bar wall. She waited, studying the human as she'd learned to in her years as a spy. He was skinny, the shirt he wore draping in a way that suggested it had been sewn for a larger frame - maybe his; but then, maybe it'd been stolen. Shaggy white hair - that was unusual. She crept forward, sniffing curiously at the harp itself. Ritka had had little contact with musical instruments, but she'd seen fine wood before, and for all it was slightly worn that harp had the look. Interesting. The harpist shifted his weight slightly and Ritka startled, continuing in her path along the bar - wouldn't want to be seen as a threat to his instrument. Her nose twitched at the smell of dinner from above, and she scanned the floor under the bar for more food as hunger surged in her belly again. No luck.
There was a quiet sound behind her and she turned to see a chunk of bread, its edges wet with soup, and a hand retreating back above the bar counter. Ritka approached cautiously, but the smell overcame her and she dashed forward, sinking her teeth into the bread and turning around to bound for the back door with her prize. It was almost too large for her to carry, and she stumbled once, but made it safely back to her burrow. In the relative safety of her sleeping chamber she crouched over the bread, nibbling at its edges and savoring the uncommon richness of its taste. She fell asleep with a few tiny crumbs still in her whiskers, and her stomach fuller than it had been for a long while.
Ordinarily Ritka slept long hours, but the next day she was woken slightly after sunrise by loud voices and the rumbling of a cart being dragged through her alley. She crept out after it had passed, unable to settle the nerves that had been set jangling by the sudden noise. There was a lump of something in the middle of the alley, and after a quick glance in either direction she scurried out to examine it up close. It proved to be a shoe, though not of the ordinary workaday type most people she'd seen wore: this shoe had embroidery at the toe and around the top, and the leather's smell told her it had been recently oiled. The best wares, brought out for a special occasion, most likely. Something was going on in the city. And a large event meant opportunity. If she could collect dropped food and store it away, she'd have more time to search out information about Avalon. If there was dropped coin... ordinarily Ritka would have stolen clothes long before, but in the close quarters of the city she couldn't risk it. Coin that might be left in place of garments, though, gave her options. Whatever was going on, she decided, she needed to be there.
Finally finally working on a Ritka intro. Should be up tonight. Sorry for the delay!
Edit: and there we go. Finally. That should have her about and active by the time Avalon and Co reach the tavern...
Edit: and there we go. Finally. That should have her about and active by the time Avalon and Co reach the tavern...
Urgh, I meant to get a post up tonight but I've got an 8am class in the morning and homework due before I can sleep, so I won't have the chance. If I'm not too burned out by the early morning I'll try to get one done tomorrow. In the meantime, though, if it works best to move ahead to the next day don't worry about Ritka; she doesn't have much to do at the moment, and I can cover the interval when I get the chance to post.
Sorry for the delay!
Sorry for the delay!
Re: clothing: alright, that makes sense. I'm gonna add a bit to Ritka's personality about her attitude towards nudity, as I think that'd be affected and could be interesting.
Avalon finding people early on sounds good to me! It'll probably be more interesting, narratively, too. I'll have to think about how he would best run into Ritka... or how someone else would, I suppose; cthulu's idea of other Canavar finding them is intriguing.
Avalon finding people early on sounds good to me! It'll probably be more interesting, narratively, too. I'll have to think about how he would best run into Ritka... or how someone else would, I suppose; cthulu's idea of other Canavar finding them is intriguing.
Dmytra said
Great job everyone, I really love how much dimension you've given to this concept, it's really starting to come alive! I believe we're waiting on one or two more profiles before we can start. If anyone would like to throw out some preliminary plot ideas, feel free to do so. We have such an interesting cast of characters, thanks for all of your work!
I have a few quick questions, if you don't mind:
First, and most trivial: what happens to a Canavar's clothing when they transform?
Second - several of us ended the 'history' section of our profiles before our characters met Avalon. Are we starting from that point, or from after he's made contact with all of them?
Name: Ritka Velius
Age: 22
Transformation: Brown rat
Personality: Much of Ritka's personality is informed by the long period of time she spent living wild as a rat: she's alert and twitchy, keeping to the periphery of rooms and constantly watching for threats. The longer she spends in human form, the more she can mask these tendencies, but they never quite go away. She views people in terms of transactions: what she can gain from them, and what they might take from her. Spending years under the thumb of a crime lord makes her cautious in her speech; she speaks what she's sure will not offend, or not at all. Given the choice of fight or flight, Ritka always flees, though she would call it pragmatism rather than cowardice.
History: When Ritka was a child, her family lived over her father's carpentry shop in Afon. It wasn't a prosperous life, but they got by well enough - until the Abardo crime family came to control their region of the city. They cleared the streets of petty thieves, but sent their own in broad daylight in the form of enforcers who demanded payment for their 'protection' from every citizen of the quarter.
Ritka's parents paid, but the cost grew higher and higher as business got slower and slower. No one in the quarter could afford her father's work anymore, and no one from outside of it ventured in: their coffers dwindled, until one day when the enforcers came there was nothing to give them. They took their price from her father's skin then, one man holding her mother by the wrists as she screamed for them to stop beating her husband. Ritka, pressed into a corner, pressed her hands over her mouth to hold in screams of her own but could not tear her eyes from the violence. Her pulse thundered in her ears, faster and faster until she felt dizzy and sick, and color faded from her vision as she struggled to breathe -
She pitched forward, gasping, and hit the ground as a rat.
That day the enforcers took her away, instead of her family's money. The head of the Avardo family offered her a deal she could hardly refuse: if she, in her rat form, would spy for him on other families and on the police, her parents would live in safety. Ritka agreed instantly, almost weeping with relief. She was twelve years old.
For nearly six years, she worked for the Avardos. Early on, her transformations could only be triggered by something that increased her heartbeat: usually, it was fear. If they needed her in rat shape, one of their thugs would dangle Ritka over the edge of a building, or swing a blade at her throat, and she'd drop nimbly out of the way to land on four tiny feet and scurry into the dark. It was no way to live, reliant on her transformations not just to keep her parents alive but to save her own skin from whatever new terror had been devised to coax out the change. Whenever she had the opportunity, Ritka tried to practice and control her abilities, and by her fifteenth birthday she could change at will consistently. The involuntary changes still happened, but at least she didn't have to be threatened with death to be able to do her job.
Not long into her eighteenth year, someone in Afon's police department got the better of her. She reported information about a planned raid back to Avardo, as she'd done dozens of times before: but this time it was false, a rumor planted within the department to suss out the source of their information leak. Instead of the warehouse she had warned of, the police struck a safehouse and in the process killed Avardo's son.
He didn't hurt Ritka, but what he did was far worse: as it had years ago, the price came from her parents' pain. Her mother died quickly, though horribly, decapitated simply as a demonstration of Avardo's anger. Her father they tortured, interrogating her between every broken finger: why had she lied? How much had she told the police? What had they offered to turn her?
They should have known better, though, than to do the very thing that had triggered her transformations in the first place. Ritka couldn't control it, and wouldn't have even if she could. She slipped from her captors' grips, dodged around their feet, and ran.
She spent the next four years avoiding cities, living most of the time as a rat to avoid notice. From time to time she fell in with natural rat packs, but never stayed for long. The warmth of their bodies was comforting, but the subtleties of pack hierarchy confused her; and inevitably she would return to human shape.
When she crossed into Gandryll, she began to hear whispers of Ellis Avalon, the king's strange (and strangely powerful) advisor. Slowly, Ritka came to a decision: she would go to the palace, seek out Avalon, and offer her services as a spy in return for protection and a place to live. Even if everything went sour again, she had nothing left to lose.
Strengths and Weaknesses: Her senses of smell and hearing are acute, and she can hear sounds at a much higher frequency than normal humans can. She's a natural swimmer, and learned some basic knifework and hand-to-hand defensive combat during her time working for Avardo - a further safeguard on a valuable asset.
Despite all she's tried, Ritka still cannot control her transformations when her heartrate accelerates too far. These transformations are much more physically taxing than voluntary ones, too, leaving her exhausted and short of breath. Her distance vision is poor, and she is red-green colorblind.
Other: Her father taught her the basics of woodcarving when she was a child, and she likes to whittle with a small knife to calm herself down. When she's human, she keeps a thumb-sized piece of carved wood in her pocket and rubs it for comfort.
She's spent long enough shifting between rat and human forms that she doesn't really get embarrassed when nude; however, she is careful most times to change back to human form in a place where she has access to clothes, as she's acutely aware and wary of nudity taboos and doesn't want to cause disruption or draw attention.
That's finished for now, but if there's anything that needs to be changed just let me know.
Age: 22
Transformation: Brown rat
Personality: Much of Ritka's personality is informed by the long period of time she spent living wild as a rat: she's alert and twitchy, keeping to the periphery of rooms and constantly watching for threats. The longer she spends in human form, the more she can mask these tendencies, but they never quite go away. She views people in terms of transactions: what she can gain from them, and what they might take from her. Spending years under the thumb of a crime lord makes her cautious in her speech; she speaks what she's sure will not offend, or not at all. Given the choice of fight or flight, Ritka always flees, though she would call it pragmatism rather than cowardice.
History: When Ritka was a child, her family lived over her father's carpentry shop in Afon. It wasn't a prosperous life, but they got by well enough - until the Abardo crime family came to control their region of the city. They cleared the streets of petty thieves, but sent their own in broad daylight in the form of enforcers who demanded payment for their 'protection' from every citizen of the quarter.
Ritka's parents paid, but the cost grew higher and higher as business got slower and slower. No one in the quarter could afford her father's work anymore, and no one from outside of it ventured in: their coffers dwindled, until one day when the enforcers came there was nothing to give them. They took their price from her father's skin then, one man holding her mother by the wrists as she screamed for them to stop beating her husband. Ritka, pressed into a corner, pressed her hands over her mouth to hold in screams of her own but could not tear her eyes from the violence. Her pulse thundered in her ears, faster and faster until she felt dizzy and sick, and color faded from her vision as she struggled to breathe -
She pitched forward, gasping, and hit the ground as a rat.
That day the enforcers took her away, instead of her family's money. The head of the Avardo family offered her a deal she could hardly refuse: if she, in her rat form, would spy for him on other families and on the police, her parents would live in safety. Ritka agreed instantly, almost weeping with relief. She was twelve years old.
For nearly six years, she worked for the Avardos. Early on, her transformations could only be triggered by something that increased her heartbeat: usually, it was fear. If they needed her in rat shape, one of their thugs would dangle Ritka over the edge of a building, or swing a blade at her throat, and she'd drop nimbly out of the way to land on four tiny feet and scurry into the dark. It was no way to live, reliant on her transformations not just to keep her parents alive but to save her own skin from whatever new terror had been devised to coax out the change. Whenever she had the opportunity, Ritka tried to practice and control her abilities, and by her fifteenth birthday she could change at will consistently. The involuntary changes still happened, but at least she didn't have to be threatened with death to be able to do her job.
Not long into her eighteenth year, someone in Afon's police department got the better of her. She reported information about a planned raid back to Avardo, as she'd done dozens of times before: but this time it was false, a rumor planted within the department to suss out the source of their information leak. Instead of the warehouse she had warned of, the police struck a safehouse and in the process killed Avardo's son.
He didn't hurt Ritka, but what he did was far worse: as it had years ago, the price came from her parents' pain. Her mother died quickly, though horribly, decapitated simply as a demonstration of Avardo's anger. Her father they tortured, interrogating her between every broken finger: why had she lied? How much had she told the police? What had they offered to turn her?
They should have known better, though, than to do the very thing that had triggered her transformations in the first place. Ritka couldn't control it, and wouldn't have even if she could. She slipped from her captors' grips, dodged around their feet, and ran.
She spent the next four years avoiding cities, living most of the time as a rat to avoid notice. From time to time she fell in with natural rat packs, but never stayed for long. The warmth of their bodies was comforting, but the subtleties of pack hierarchy confused her; and inevitably she would return to human shape.
When she crossed into Gandryll, she began to hear whispers of Ellis Avalon, the king's strange (and strangely powerful) advisor. Slowly, Ritka came to a decision: she would go to the palace, seek out Avalon, and offer her services as a spy in return for protection and a place to live. Even if everything went sour again, she had nothing left to lose.
Strengths and Weaknesses: Her senses of smell and hearing are acute, and she can hear sounds at a much higher frequency than normal humans can. She's a natural swimmer, and learned some basic knifework and hand-to-hand defensive combat during her time working for Avardo - a further safeguard on a valuable asset.
Despite all she's tried, Ritka still cannot control her transformations when her heartrate accelerates too far. These transformations are much more physically taxing than voluntary ones, too, leaving her exhausted and short of breath. Her distance vision is poor, and she is red-green colorblind.
Other: Her father taught her the basics of woodcarving when she was a child, and she likes to whittle with a small knife to calm herself down. When she's human, she keeps a thumb-sized piece of carved wood in her pocket and rubs it for comfort.
She's spent long enough shifting between rat and human forms that she doesn't really get embarrassed when nude; however, she is careful most times to change back to human form in a place where she has access to clothes, as she's acutely aware and wary of nudity taboos and doesn't want to cause disruption or draw attention.
That's finished for now, but if there's anything that needs to be changed just let me know.
Oooh, this looks lovely! You just want character sheets posted here, right?
Ahh, neat! Good to know; I wasn't sure if multiple interest checks were kosher or not. Thank you!
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