Dewbelle's Profile
May 29, 2018 18:25:00 GMT -5
Post by Celebes on May 29, 2018 18:25:00 GMT -5
Name: Dewbelle "Dewy" Alderbough
Species: Red Squirrel
Gender: Female
Dibbun Weapon:
Should Dewbelle find herself needing to ward off a certain rival dibbun, or an annoying lumbering grownbeast, Dewy will use a peashooter to pop off a couple nuts or pebbles at the offender. The small reed tube is one of her own making, roughly crafted from a failed attempt to copy a flute of her mother’s.
Adult Weapon:
Dewy’s limited arsenal consists of a brace of javelins and a small knife. Her javelins are made of stout alder wood and measure at about half her length, topped with a steel head. These will poke out the top of her bag and are thus rather impossible to conceal. Her knife is nothing more than a simple metal blade set into a smooth bone handle.
Appearance:
Dewbelle is a rusty red squirrel. While her lean frame and small stature don’t do much to set her apart from other squirrels, she likes to believe she keeps a better posture. Back straight, head forward, and tail slightly slack. Sharp amber eyes are likely the first things one would see upon a quick glance of her, set in a confident face with mostly-straight whiskers beneath a pair of sharp ears. The tufts of said ears tend to start the day painstakingly pointed, though as time passes and antics progress these fine furry flags tend to fray. The same can be said of her tail, which is more likely to be brushed and flower-plaited the earlier one sees her in the day. A fine stripe of creamy white leading from belly to chin completes the description. Neatness, though not necessarily cleanliness, is the general goal.
In her younger seasons, Dewbelle wears whatever her mother wills her to, which tends to be quite the limited wardrobe supplemented by Abbey garb. Her ideal combination would be a skirt and a top, given its flexibility, but a one-piece smock or habit tends to be defaulted to more often. One thing that is consistent however is the bandana she wears between her ears. Generally worn front-to-back gypsy fashion to keep the sun off her head and out of her eyes, she will occasionally drop the kerchief down around her neck when indoors. Drawn to patterns, Dewy will wear anything in plaid, paisley, argyle, or checkers. A shiny trinket is a prized possession, and she will find a way to show it off before it becomes lost or traded. Look for it in her tail, on a necklace, or within her paws.
As a grownbeast, Dewbelle’s tastes change little, though her means to acquire her preferred style are enhanced. Through trade and personal handicraft, she has expanded her wardrobe to include a few different sets of clothes in her preferred shades of copper, green, red, and black. She holds herself well, by her own estimation, and is wont to using body language to punctuate her dialogue. One paw will be in the air for moments of ordinary emphasis, both paws in moments of more extreme excitement. It is generally advised to stand a pace back if the conversation changes to her latest climb.
Should a special activity be on schedule, the responsible adult squirrelmaid will naturally dress accordingly. Off on adventure? She will wear a small leather backpack if she needs to carry supplies, preferring it to a satchel so that she can keep her arms more free for climbing. Abbey feast that day? Off with the bandana and on with the ribbon, with a fresh brushing of her tail right before grace. Going for a dip? Well, actually, she would leave that to the otters. But she’d be sure to grab a pawful of nuts and for watching from the bank.
If any of the above scenarios appeared on the dibbun Dewy’s schedule, well, it’s best said that such preparations are rarely thought out ahead of time.
Personality:
Dewbelle, or Dewy, the only nickname that she will tolerate, is a know-it-all young squirrel. Knowing that her opinion is really the only one that matters, she tends to openly question anything she doesn’t agree with. Whether it’s the chore order of an elder, or it’s the game idea of another dibbun, Dewy will have to agree that an idea is good for her before she will be happy doing it. This naturally leads to many an unhappy chore and the occasional grumpy game.
When not being overtly contentious, Dewbelle fancies herself a leader, though this illusion is occasionally challenged by her distinct lack of followers. Kind to her friends if a bit stiff, Dewy likes to do anything that is active and outdoors. She has a firm voice, and tends to speak half a notch more formally than her peers. Dewy’s favorite things to learn about are Abbey history and sewing, while shying away from anything to do with the kitchen. Her penmanship is meticulous, as is her prose. In a crowd, Dewbelle tends to keep to the periphery, unless a subject should come up that she is particularly passionate about. Then she ensures her opinion is the last to be heard.
Like many other squirrels, Dewbelle possesses a climbing spirit. The world is always better seen with that third dimension of height, and Dewy is rarely content with the angles of view offered on the ground. Though she can’t profess to be the best climber, she does have a commendable amount of pluck that allows her to courageously climb to heights deemed a limb too far by most other tree scalers. She takes pride in her climbs, and will proudly mark the heights she has conquered. The fact that her pendants tend to blow away makes the perfect excuse to rescale a challenging tree.
One side note on her preferred world-view, the aspect of angles does not apply to sights below the ground. Nervous to the point of fright, Dewy will do her best to avoid going into the earth, especially alone. The thought of an immeasurable weight of crushing rock above her head is always present, whether it be in a calm confined cavern, a manufactured mole mound, or a supposedly sturdy cellar.
As time teaches her temperance, Dewbelle’s dibbunish conceit recedes as she matures. While still somewhat short of patience for points-of-view she can’t relate to, the squirrelmaid admits that harmony produces the sweeter sound. Redwall itself is the product of an orchestra of opinions coming together. It’s a good analogy that tends to reel her back from letting her normally alto voice reaching a new cadence during particularly heated disagreements. Note, these musical musings should not be deemed anything beyond metaphorical. Dewy can only carry a tune in concert with a partner. And her fluting? It seems her mother kept her natural talent from falling down the family tree.
History:
Dewbelle is a woodlands brat, born and reared by parents not living in Redwall Abbey. Her father, Gorse, exists only in a few faint memories, a strong scarred squirrel whom she was told had a passion for fighting vermin. Not confident in her abilities to educate her offspring alone, Dewbelle’s mother, Rosebay, made the decision to bring her daughter to Redwall Abbey. For her part, Dewy was set in the belief that the arrangement was to be temporary. It was only a matter of biding her time. The young squirrel would anxiously await the mornings that her mother would visit and take her out into the woods for a few days, allowing her to escape the tedium of chores and baths at the Abbey. They would always end too soon. As good as the excursions were, her mother never kept her out long, and despite Dewy’s most desperate pleas, Rosebay refused to remain at Redwall.
Settling into Abbey life, if only by force, Dewbelle began to befriend other creatures her age, adding to their antics and running with their ruckuses. She liked to play games of her own making, and liked it even more when she could convince other dibbuns to play along. Like other dibbuns of the more riotous sort, Dewbelle didn’t particularly care about getting in trouble with the grownbeasts who minded her at Redwall. However, the threat of fetching her mother to deal with her wayward daughter was usually fright enough to get Dewy to behave for a few days. For those times it did not, she was saved by the fact that the threat was usually too impractical to carry out. Usually.
Seasons passed, and as Dewbelle was growing into a quirky adolescent a personal tragedy struck in the form of her mother’s passing. Several weeks late into her prearranged visit, Rosebay crawled into the Abbey in pitiful state. It was winter time, and though her mother was fluffy as any other squirrel, Dewy’s mom had the unfortune to catch a chill. It had to have been quite the chill for the shy squirrel to allow herself to be taken into the Abbey, but as the illness degenerated into something pneumonial, Rosebay was grateful that she was able to spend her last living weeks with her daughter. It wasn’t long after her mother’s eyes finally closed that Dewbelle realized how grateful she was for the brothers and sisters of Redwall who had cared for her mother. They had been ever willing to give, even to a practical stranger. Nothing was ever expected in return. Though the change wasn’t immediate, Dewy began to view the Abbey less as a boarding school to be borne, and more a home to give back to.
At last fully mature in body and spirit, or at least enough to pass the Abbey’s loose standards, Dewbelle decided to set her stakes at Redwall. Having been given so much growing up, the squirrelmaid intended to do her best to give back. Foraging to fill the Abbey’s larders, collecting herbs to stock the infirmary, and carrying the odd message to creatures some way away, Dewy would complement her desire to help with her love of the woodlands. The arrangement was only ever interrupted when a particularly tall obstacle presented itself, and Dewbelle’s indominable climbing spirit would demand its conquest. A happy outlook on life sustained her from day-to-day, helping her to navigate the occasional trial.
Eventually, with mate successfully pursued and youthful flame tempered, Dewbelle would settle at the Abbey. Lessons learned in forest and class would be passed on, and each day would be lived in gratitude for the great Abbey that is Redwall.
Species: Red Squirrel
Gender: Female
Dibbun Weapon:
Should Dewbelle find herself needing to ward off a certain rival dibbun, or an annoying lumbering grownbeast, Dewy will use a peashooter to pop off a couple nuts or pebbles at the offender. The small reed tube is one of her own making, roughly crafted from a failed attempt to copy a flute of her mother’s.
Adult Weapon:
Dewy’s limited arsenal consists of a brace of javelins and a small knife. Her javelins are made of stout alder wood and measure at about half her length, topped with a steel head. These will poke out the top of her bag and are thus rather impossible to conceal. Her knife is nothing more than a simple metal blade set into a smooth bone handle.
Appearance:
Dewbelle is a rusty red squirrel. While her lean frame and small stature don’t do much to set her apart from other squirrels, she likes to believe she keeps a better posture. Back straight, head forward, and tail slightly slack. Sharp amber eyes are likely the first things one would see upon a quick glance of her, set in a confident face with mostly-straight whiskers beneath a pair of sharp ears. The tufts of said ears tend to start the day painstakingly pointed, though as time passes and antics progress these fine furry flags tend to fray. The same can be said of her tail, which is more likely to be brushed and flower-plaited the earlier one sees her in the day. A fine stripe of creamy white leading from belly to chin completes the description. Neatness, though not necessarily cleanliness, is the general goal.
In her younger seasons, Dewbelle wears whatever her mother wills her to, which tends to be quite the limited wardrobe supplemented by Abbey garb. Her ideal combination would be a skirt and a top, given its flexibility, but a one-piece smock or habit tends to be defaulted to more often. One thing that is consistent however is the bandana she wears between her ears. Generally worn front-to-back gypsy fashion to keep the sun off her head and out of her eyes, she will occasionally drop the kerchief down around her neck when indoors. Drawn to patterns, Dewy will wear anything in plaid, paisley, argyle, or checkers. A shiny trinket is a prized possession, and she will find a way to show it off before it becomes lost or traded. Look for it in her tail, on a necklace, or within her paws.
As a grownbeast, Dewbelle’s tastes change little, though her means to acquire her preferred style are enhanced. Through trade and personal handicraft, she has expanded her wardrobe to include a few different sets of clothes in her preferred shades of copper, green, red, and black. She holds herself well, by her own estimation, and is wont to using body language to punctuate her dialogue. One paw will be in the air for moments of ordinary emphasis, both paws in moments of more extreme excitement. It is generally advised to stand a pace back if the conversation changes to her latest climb.
Should a special activity be on schedule, the responsible adult squirrelmaid will naturally dress accordingly. Off on adventure? She will wear a small leather backpack if she needs to carry supplies, preferring it to a satchel so that she can keep her arms more free for climbing. Abbey feast that day? Off with the bandana and on with the ribbon, with a fresh brushing of her tail right before grace. Going for a dip? Well, actually, she would leave that to the otters. But she’d be sure to grab a pawful of nuts and for watching from the bank.
If any of the above scenarios appeared on the dibbun Dewy’s schedule, well, it’s best said that such preparations are rarely thought out ahead of time.
Personality:
Dewbelle, or Dewy, the only nickname that she will tolerate, is a know-it-all young squirrel. Knowing that her opinion is really the only one that matters, she tends to openly question anything she doesn’t agree with. Whether it’s the chore order of an elder, or it’s the game idea of another dibbun, Dewy will have to agree that an idea is good for her before she will be happy doing it. This naturally leads to many an unhappy chore and the occasional grumpy game.
When not being overtly contentious, Dewbelle fancies herself a leader, though this illusion is occasionally challenged by her distinct lack of followers. Kind to her friends if a bit stiff, Dewy likes to do anything that is active and outdoors. She has a firm voice, and tends to speak half a notch more formally than her peers. Dewy’s favorite things to learn about are Abbey history and sewing, while shying away from anything to do with the kitchen. Her penmanship is meticulous, as is her prose. In a crowd, Dewbelle tends to keep to the periphery, unless a subject should come up that she is particularly passionate about. Then she ensures her opinion is the last to be heard.
Like many other squirrels, Dewbelle possesses a climbing spirit. The world is always better seen with that third dimension of height, and Dewy is rarely content with the angles of view offered on the ground. Though she can’t profess to be the best climber, she does have a commendable amount of pluck that allows her to courageously climb to heights deemed a limb too far by most other tree scalers. She takes pride in her climbs, and will proudly mark the heights she has conquered. The fact that her pendants tend to blow away makes the perfect excuse to rescale a challenging tree.
One side note on her preferred world-view, the aspect of angles does not apply to sights below the ground. Nervous to the point of fright, Dewy will do her best to avoid going into the earth, especially alone. The thought of an immeasurable weight of crushing rock above her head is always present, whether it be in a calm confined cavern, a manufactured mole mound, or a supposedly sturdy cellar.
As time teaches her temperance, Dewbelle’s dibbunish conceit recedes as she matures. While still somewhat short of patience for points-of-view she can’t relate to, the squirrelmaid admits that harmony produces the sweeter sound. Redwall itself is the product of an orchestra of opinions coming together. It’s a good analogy that tends to reel her back from letting her normally alto voice reaching a new cadence during particularly heated disagreements. Note, these musical musings should not be deemed anything beyond metaphorical. Dewy can only carry a tune in concert with a partner. And her fluting? It seems her mother kept her natural talent from falling down the family tree.
History:
Dewbelle is a woodlands brat, born and reared by parents not living in Redwall Abbey. Her father, Gorse, exists only in a few faint memories, a strong scarred squirrel whom she was told had a passion for fighting vermin. Not confident in her abilities to educate her offspring alone, Dewbelle’s mother, Rosebay, made the decision to bring her daughter to Redwall Abbey. For her part, Dewy was set in the belief that the arrangement was to be temporary. It was only a matter of biding her time. The young squirrel would anxiously await the mornings that her mother would visit and take her out into the woods for a few days, allowing her to escape the tedium of chores and baths at the Abbey. They would always end too soon. As good as the excursions were, her mother never kept her out long, and despite Dewy’s most desperate pleas, Rosebay refused to remain at Redwall.
Settling into Abbey life, if only by force, Dewbelle began to befriend other creatures her age, adding to their antics and running with their ruckuses. She liked to play games of her own making, and liked it even more when she could convince other dibbuns to play along. Like other dibbuns of the more riotous sort, Dewbelle didn’t particularly care about getting in trouble with the grownbeasts who minded her at Redwall. However, the threat of fetching her mother to deal with her wayward daughter was usually fright enough to get Dewy to behave for a few days. For those times it did not, she was saved by the fact that the threat was usually too impractical to carry out. Usually.
Seasons passed, and as Dewbelle was growing into a quirky adolescent a personal tragedy struck in the form of her mother’s passing. Several weeks late into her prearranged visit, Rosebay crawled into the Abbey in pitiful state. It was winter time, and though her mother was fluffy as any other squirrel, Dewy’s mom had the unfortune to catch a chill. It had to have been quite the chill for the shy squirrel to allow herself to be taken into the Abbey, but as the illness degenerated into something pneumonial, Rosebay was grateful that she was able to spend her last living weeks with her daughter. It wasn’t long after her mother’s eyes finally closed that Dewbelle realized how grateful she was for the brothers and sisters of Redwall who had cared for her mother. They had been ever willing to give, even to a practical stranger. Nothing was ever expected in return. Though the change wasn’t immediate, Dewy began to view the Abbey less as a boarding school to be borne, and more a home to give back to.
At last fully mature in body and spirit, or at least enough to pass the Abbey’s loose standards, Dewbelle decided to set her stakes at Redwall. Having been given so much growing up, the squirrelmaid intended to do her best to give back. Foraging to fill the Abbey’s larders, collecting herbs to stock the infirmary, and carrying the odd message to creatures some way away, Dewy would complement her desire to help with her love of the woodlands. The arrangement was only ever interrupted when a particularly tall obstacle presented itself, and Dewbelle’s indominable climbing spirit would demand its conquest. A happy outlook on life sustained her from day-to-day, helping her to navigate the occasional trial.
Eventually, with mate successfully pursued and youthful flame tempered, Dewbelle would settle at the Abbey. Lessons learned in forest and class would be passed on, and each day would be lived in gratitude for the great Abbey that is Redwall.