Welcome to Gaia! ::

Name: Flamestripe
Age: Unknown (appears young)
Sex: Male
Species: Badger
Place of Origin: Eastern Mossflower Wood
Family: Deceased
Occupation: Wanderer
Description: Dark red eyes, white bands of fur on both wrists, wears a black cloak over a sand-colored tunic reminiscent of those worn at Salamandastron. His black stripes fade to red at the tips, near the nose. Bears two Marlfox poleaxes over his shoulder.
Personality: Gets bored easily, loves being in the middle of a fight, and excessively random
History: After shattering his sword in a battle with two Marlfoxes, Flamestripe is traveling to Salamandastron to get a new sword. Little else is known about him.

Name: Hezgren Karr, Formerly Hezgren Karr Juskarab
Age: I've never been totally sure how age in seasons is supposed to translate. Hezgren is a young adult however.
Gender: Male
Species: Rat
Place of origin: Western Shores
Family: Kethar Rab (father), Shikel Karr (mother)
Occupation: Wandering brigand, wannabe warlord, Holder of Typical Vermin-Type Grudges
Appearance: Hezgren may have been handsome at one point, but no more. Scars left from his clan tattoos being gouged out run across his entire body, ruining and twisting his features and turning what had once been intimidating markings into horrific ones. His is a face Slagar wouldn't envy.

Hard living has made him somewhat gaunt, though still muscled and strong. He wears a ragged brown runic belted with rope, and also carries a cloak with him to hide the terrible scars, partly out of shame and partly so that his potential victims do not immediately flee from the sight of him.
Personality: Hezgren is downright nasty, a combination of innate vermin evil and the betrayal of the few parts of him that had been decent. He doesn't care about anyone except himself, and sorts all others into one of three categories: enemies, dupes, or playthings. He will not hesitate to manipulate or use any and all around him to his ends, or to remove them once they are no longer useful. When not overtaken by impulsive rage Hezgren is very cunning, and a very convincing liar.

Hezgren is not above allying with or (temporarily) serving under anyone -even snakes and woodlanders- if he deems it somehow helpful, expedient, or otherwise conducive to his continued health.

Equipment:
-Bow and arrows
-Notched sword with kill-marks
-Rusty dagger
-Meat cleaver
-Small wooden shield
-Body-obscuring hooded cloak
-Small pack with supplies
Biography: Hezgren Karr Juskarab was born into a middle-sized Juska tribe on the Western Shores, the son of the tribe's rat seeress. None knew who his father was save his mother Shikel herself, and as is typical of vermin, none really cared either. Hezgren simply grew up without a father, learning how to be a grownbeast through personal the example of others as he dodged the kicks and curses and of the rest of the tribe. Hezgren was a tough kid, as most vermin children are, and he didn't let this commonplace mistreatment bother him beyond plotting the gruesome deaths of all who had done him ill.

There was one tormentor who stood above all others, however. The tribe chieftan, Kethar Rab.

Hezgren hated Kethar Rab with all of his young, shriveled black heart. The old rat chieftan was capricious and cruel in the extreme, and exorbitantly abusive of his subjects. Not that this was particularly different from Hezgren himself; the issue lay in the fact that Rab's viciousness reached out and twisted the ears of both Hezgren and the only other person he could be said to care about, his mother. In addition, as the chief he was above reprisal by the other tribe members, and had free reign to torment woever he wished. From the day he earned his clan tattoos and could hold a blade, Hezgren began secretly practicing and plotting intently to kill Kethar Rab.

Vermin have an almost instintive, if brutal and unrefined, grasp of swordsmanship and combat. Hezgren's obsessive training took that instinct and honed it to a killer edge, practicing relentlessly and out of sight of the others. During raids he began to start taking his own fair share of kills; though he made sure not to kill too many or too well and draw attention to himself.

Eventually, now matured into a vicious young adult vermin, Hezgren decided to strike. He waited for cover of darkness, then attacked. He slaughtered the two guards at the tent flap, and strode in quiet as a whisper, dagger raised to kill Kethar Rab.

The stroke never fell. As soon as he entered the tent he was greeted with the laughing and mocking visage of Kethar and the weeping, cringing, servile face of his mother Shikel next to the chieftan, as six burly henchvermin grabbed him in a grip he could not escape.

"Your mother was most helpful, whelp!" Kethar cackled. "Without her seer's warning I would never have known you were coming. How nice of you to drop by! Traitor."

The chieftan gestured to his henchmen. "Take him away and lock him up. I have some plans for him in the morning."

Hezgran yelled out to his mother. "You two-faced slime! You sold me out! Why'd you do it?" he roared, surging forward and nearly tugging his captors off of their feet.

Shikel was still sobbing. "Because he is your father, Hezgran."

Hezgran was utterly shocked. Everything had come crashing down around him, and now came this betrayal. That tormentor was his father? How dare she! In that moment the last vestiges of anything that might have been good in the young vermin died in an instant. He was dragged off screaming.

"I'LL KILL YOU! I'LL KILL YOU BOTH! I'LL KILL YOU ALL FOR THIS, MARK MY WORDS YOU SCUM-SUCKING BETRAYERS! YOU'RE GOING TO REGRET THI-"

The young rat never got to finish his tirade, as one of the henchvermin smashed him in the head and knocked him out cold.

In the morning Hezgren woke up extremely sore all over, with his head pounding and all four claws tied behind him to an upright stake. He had an awful taste in his mouth, which it took him a few seconds to realize was a gag. As he was coming to he realized that Kethar was giving a speech next to him, and the entire tribe was gathered to listen.

"-This traitor that you see before you attempted to kill me. Me! Your cheiftan! And in his treacherous assault he has killed two of our tribesmen. What shall be his punishment?"

"DEATH! DEATH!" cried the crowd, whipped into a frenzy.

"Is that all you louts can think up?" Kethar roared, laughing. "No! I'm not going to kill the traitor. I'M GONNA GIVE HIM A FATE WORSE THAN DEATH!"

The crowd cheered deafeningly. They wanted blood, and they would get it.

"From this day forth, the traitor Hezgren Karr Juskarab is exile and banished! He is stripped of my tribe." The rat chieftan smashed the would-be assassin across the face brutally. "You may call yourself Juskarab no longer! You are cast out of the tribe, and you are not welcome amongst any of the Juska! For your betrayal you must leave our lands forever, and if you return any may kill you at their pleasure!

But we cannot allow you to wander the lands bearing our tattoos! They shall be removed, and their removal will serve as mark and remind everyone, THE PRICE OF KETHAR RAB'S ENMITY! I SHALL CARVE OUR CLAN'S MARKINGS FROM HIS HIDE!"

The last thing Hezgren Karr remembered for quite a while was the image of a grinning Kethar approaching with a skinning knife, surrounded by the deafening cheering pf the tribe. Then all was pain.

Hezgren's screams echoed across the dunes for miles.


When he finally woke up, he was lying alone on the dunes. They had simply dropped him in some remote region, with no equipment, no posessions, and his wounds still open and bleeding as sand blew into them.

Delirious, he wandered for two days, and eventually collapsed not far from the encampment of a small and peaceful nomad clan of mice. The mice took pity on the viciously wounded Hezgren when they found him, and took him in, cleaning his wounds and nursing him back to health. Eventually the wounds closed over and healed, but the young rat would be forever marked, hideous knotted scars left in their place and twisting his features into some sort of grotesquery out of nightmare. Upon seeing his reflection, he flew into a towering rage at his hideous appearance, and attacked the mice. he slew any and all he could get his hands on, and the rest fled terrified into the night.

Calming down from his frenzy but still simmering with rage at the world, Hezgren looted the encampment for any supplies he could find and left, eventually wandering his way to Mossflower Country. At the moment rather aimless, cut off from his culture, robbed of his identity and marred with his hideous appearance, he is simply subsisting; but he has heard of Mossflower and Redwall as rich places to plunder, and has been on the lookout for any vermin gangs to join up with. The young killer dreams of becoming a warlord someday, and returning to crush Kethar Rab and all who oppose him.

At the moment though he's about as far away from that goal as one can get...

Name:Quin
Age: 17 seasons
Sex: Male
Species: Rabbit
Place of Origin: Mossflower
Family: Unkown
Occupation: None
Description: White and Black fur. He also has a brown cloak that he wears.
Pesonality: Easy going and scatter brained, often forgets things.