cottonferret
Qia
spicykvnt
Festive
Rockette
Skai
Snowdrops
Cleveraptor
ButtsnBalls
Dion
A mouse.
Born shortly after his family’s arrival at Redwall Abbey, Rigby has known only the kindly, often mischievous, and always friendly company of the Abbey dwellers. He roamed its halls and grounds as a dibbun and got into his fair share of trouble. Though he rarely acted as the ringleader, he was always a willing accomplice. His mother swears he’s the cause of every grey fur she’s got. He knows every inch of the Abbey from the high attic loft to the cellars, from the pond to the battlements. He also knows how to coax a tasty midday treat from the cooks and is happy to share his knowledge with the young ones when they start looking for a little adventure or an afternoon snack. Though now he’s more likely to play mediator and offer distractions that aren’t as… foolhardy as his were.
He loves all of it, and all the creatures living within the walls (and without), but his most favourite place to spend his time is in the gatehouse with the Abbey Recorder, discussing the Abbey’s history, well-known heroes, and stories so old the parchment’s started crumbling. The library is nice too, but the Gatehouse comes with guests and the chance to be first to hear the news. He has a very good memory and learned from his mother the art of telling a proper story, so he was making good use of that skill even as a dibbun but has grown into the role of entertainer at gatherings and feasts or whenever the dibbuns can coax him into sharing the newest story he’s learned. He’s just as happy to copy out the older records or jot down a note or two about their latest visitor, should it seem appropriate. He even got to write the official record of the last Nameday celebration, with supervision, of course.
His parents were wanderers who’d heard of Mossflower and Redwall during their travels, as well as many other tales they livened the hearth with many a winter’s evening, and though they’d visited it a few times before settling down, it was only after Rigby was born with a missing leg that they decided to stay on. Both for his sake and for the rest of their family since none of them were growing any younger, though he adapted quite handily despite their worries. He doesn’t seem to have inherited much of their wanderlust, though he’s always liked stories about travelling the best, and he does occasionally dream about leaving the Abbey walls and going to visit at least one of the places he’s heard about. Just to experience it, of course: trekking through the woods, or over the hills, or under the hills, wouldn’t that be exciting?
He has also, with rather less dreaming and more paws on practice, turned his curiosity to helpful inquisitiveness and learned the rudiments of a good many crafts. Some, like his father’s carpentry, he learned early on to make himself useful. Others, like beekeeping and cooking, he admittedly got into because they interested him, and he’d been hopeful it would involve a mite more taste testing than it does. But after properly realising that he wanted to become the Recordkeeper himself one day, he decided he needed to know a little of everything he could, to better understand the experiences of those figures in the stories, and the daily life that would have happened around them. Thankfully, although he isn’t always good at the chores he’s helping with, everyone’s been a good sport about letting him have a go. If nothing else, it’s certainly given him a fine appreciation of all the effort that goes into a good many things that make life so convenient at the Abbey.
He has been in more routine attendance of the gatehouse and the gate during the last season, and many of the regular Abbey visitors have gotten to know his particular brand of friendly curiosity and welcome and to recognise his slight brown frame and hopping gait as he opens the gate for them. He is most often wearing a green habit and is rarely seen without his crutches or the sling bag his mother made him, so he can keep his paws free. He also, almost inevitably, has a spot of ink somewhere on him by the end of the day, whether on his paws, or his robe, or his head fur.
Rigby hasn’t lost his youthful energy and might well never (he still races with the dibbuns and enjoys a good frolic), but once he’s settled into a task he can be as focused as any beast, with steady paws and a good eye for detail. He’s grown a good head on his shoulders and maintains a practical sort of enthusiasm for anything he might be doing, finding some way of making it fun, or at least, less boring. He’s always eager to lend a paw or a listening ear and has never been one to turn down a challenge either.
Born shortly after his family’s arrival at Redwall Abbey, Rigby has known only the kindly, often mischievous, and always friendly company of the Abbey dwellers. He roamed its halls and grounds as a dibbun and got into his fair share of trouble. Though he rarely acted as the ringleader, he was always a willing accomplice. His mother swears he’s the cause of every grey fur she’s got. He knows every inch of the Abbey from the high attic loft to the cellars, from the pond to the battlements. He also knows how to coax a tasty midday treat from the cooks and is happy to share his knowledge with the young ones when they start looking for a little adventure or an afternoon snack. Though now he’s more likely to play mediator and offer distractions that aren’t as… foolhardy as his were.
He loves all of it, and all the creatures living within the walls (and without), but his most favourite place to spend his time is in the gatehouse with the Abbey Recorder, discussing the Abbey’s history, well-known heroes, and stories so old the parchment’s started crumbling. The library is nice too, but the Gatehouse comes with guests and the chance to be first to hear the news. He has a very good memory and learned from his mother the art of telling a proper story, so he was making good use of that skill even as a dibbun but has grown into the role of entertainer at gatherings and feasts or whenever the dibbuns can coax him into sharing the newest story he’s learned. He’s just as happy to copy out the older records or jot down a note or two about their latest visitor, should it seem appropriate. He even got to write the official record of the last Nameday celebration, with supervision, of course.
His parents were wanderers who’d heard of Mossflower and Redwall during their travels, as well as many other tales they livened the hearth with many a winter’s evening, and though they’d visited it a few times before settling down, it was only after Rigby was born with a missing leg that they decided to stay on. Both for his sake and for the rest of their family since none of them were growing any younger, though he adapted quite handily despite their worries. He doesn’t seem to have inherited much of their wanderlust, though he’s always liked stories about travelling the best, and he does occasionally dream about leaving the Abbey walls and going to visit at least one of the places he’s heard about. Just to experience it, of course: trekking through the woods, or over the hills, or under the hills, wouldn’t that be exciting?
He has also, with rather less dreaming and more paws on practice, turned his curiosity to helpful inquisitiveness and learned the rudiments of a good many crafts. Some, like his father’s carpentry, he learned early on to make himself useful. Others, like beekeeping and cooking, he admittedly got into because they interested him, and he’d been hopeful it would involve a mite more taste testing than it does. But after properly realising that he wanted to become the Recordkeeper himself one day, he decided he needed to know a little of everything he could, to better understand the experiences of those figures in the stories, and the daily life that would have happened around them. Thankfully, although he isn’t always good at the chores he’s helping with, everyone’s been a good sport about letting him have a go. If nothing else, it’s certainly given him a fine appreciation of all the effort that goes into a good many things that make life so convenient at the Abbey.
He has been in more routine attendance of the gatehouse and the gate during the last season, and many of the regular Abbey visitors have gotten to know his particular brand of friendly curiosity and welcome and to recognise his slight brown frame and hopping gait as he opens the gate for them. He is most often wearing a green habit and is rarely seen without his crutches or the sling bag his mother made him, so he can keep his paws free. He also, almost inevitably, has a spot of ink somewhere on him by the end of the day, whether on his paws, or his robe, or his head fur.
Rigby hasn’t lost his youthful energy and might well never (he still races with the dibbuns and enjoys a good frolic), but once he’s settled into a task he can be as focused as any beast, with steady paws and a good eye for detail. He’s grown a good head on his shoulders and maintains a practical sort of enthusiasm for anything he might be doing, finding some way of making it fun, or at least, less boring. He’s always eager to lend a paw or a listening ear and has never been one to turn down a challenge either.
I know I've covered all the necessary information, but my mind is still telling me I'm missing all of the everything and I would like it to stop. That, or someone needs to tell me more specifically what I need to add, because ARGH! I just wanna write 'im!