Otus Shortwing profile
Apr 19, 2012 18:54:27 GMT -5
Post by Otus Shortwing on Apr 19, 2012 18:54:27 GMT -5
Name: Otus Shortwing
Species: Owl (Scops Owl)
Gender: Male
Dibbun Weapon: Beak and talons
Adult Weapon: Beak and talons, coupled with flight maneuvers
As an owlet, Otus’ body is entirely covered in soft, fuzzy, light tan down. He has fuzzy little eartufts, also made of down, atop his large head, and his beak is small, hooked, sharp, and a silver-gray. He has wire-like black bristles beside his beak that wiggle when he moves his cheek muscles—they droop when he’s sad, quiver when he’s happy or excited, and stick straight out when he’s angry or afraid; he retains these bristles and their associated movements throughout his life. Otus’ round eyes are enormous at this age, taking up nearly half his face, and the dark pupil make up most of the eye surface, but he has yellow-gold irises that are just barely visible around the edges. His short wing and tail feathers are very fuzzy at this stage, and can’t even break his fall or help him glide, but they look slightly more like adult feathers and have a mottled gray-brown coloration. He preens these baby flight feathers proudly and often shows them off. Like most owls, his legs have feathers on them down to his feet, which are bare and have four gray “toes,” two of which point backwards and two forwards. He has sharp talons on the end of each toe, which are the same silver-gray as his beak. Otus’ overall size is very small (and nearly half of his stature is taken up with Very Large Head), about the size of a mouse of a similar age, though he’s far fluffier than most young mice.
As an adult, Otus’ flight and tail feathers have come in, allowing him to fly; in flight, his wings stretch to more than twice his body length and are perfectly silent. He is an extremely adept and agile flier. His feathers are a marbled dusky gray with a hint of brown, like the color of old leaves, and his belly has darker black lines running down it. His eartufts are much longer now and curve out of his head, looking almost like feathered horns. His beak and talons are still gray but the silver tints have darkened to a bluish. His eyes are far smaller proportionally, since they haven’t grown at all since he was a dibbun (the rest of his face filled out), and the pupils are now far smaller; the bright yellow-gold iris now takes up more than half of each keen eye. His overall body is still smaller than most other owl species, and he’s shorter than the average adult squirrel, though his ear tufts reach up about as far as a squirrel’s ears.
As a dibbun, Otus never wears clothes, though occasionally he’ll don a light sash of woven grass; he loops the brown-green sash over one wing-shoulder and down around his body on the other side, the way a satchel might be worn. He does, in fact, sometimes attach a satchel to it, but he can only care light items, such as food or scrolls. He also has a necklace of woven hemp and river shells, which he only wears for special occasions because of its weight. He protects this necklace fiercely and keeps it hidden in the rafters.
As an adult, Otus is able to carry heavier shoulder-bags made of thick cloth and flexible bark, but he has to wear a special harness with one bag on each side to balance him out if he wants to fly. He wears a green sash made of habit-cloth when he’s in Redwall Abbey, to symbolize his affiliation with the abbey order. He has taken apart the shell necklace of his dibbunhood and made it into a set of lovely decorations, including a white-corded necklace with a single large shell hanging from it, and several leg-bangles that make a pleasing sound as he walks. Most of these shell ornaments are still reserved for special occasions; however, he has a woven anklet with a single polished mussel shell that catches the light as he walks or flies, that he wears at all times on his right leg.
As a dibbun, Otus is brash, bold, rude, impulsive to the point of recklessness, and extremely loud. He never stops shouting when he speaks—if he’s not making the loudest noise of anyone in the room, he quickly changes that. He overestimates his own abilities and is often arrogant to others; grownbeasts can see through his exaggerations, but dibbuns often believe him. Otus is territorial of his few possessions, and hides them away in the ceiling beams and rafter networks of the abbey. He has an excellent memory and never forgets where he’s placed something. When Otus is caught in a misdemeanor, he first tries to talk his way out of it; if this fails, he begins shifting blame to otherbeasts; if this doesn’t work, he’ll make excuses for himself; and finally, all else failing, he bursts into tears. Punishment generally follows in spite of these efforts, which he takes grudgingly.
Otus’ young adult seasons are characterized by a mellowing of his personality and interpersonal relations. He essentially begins to discover himself as he fledges—he learns better his true strengths and weaknesses and grows to be comfortable in his role. The abbey leaders begin to work with him a little more on his unusual (compared to other abbeybeasts) nocturnal nature, and his duties shift to accommodate a different schedule. Because he is now allowed to sleep during the day, he begins to make more of an effort to spend time with his fellow youngbeasts during breakfast and dinner each day, instead of stealing food and eating it at night. His arrogance-turned-self-confidence is appealing to many beasts, and he grows to have an air of responsibility and dependability. He remains bold and outspoken and still loud at most points, but even while his flight feathers grow longer and longer, his politeness too grows greater. He remains impulsive and reckless, however, doing almost anything that comes into his birdbrain. When he gets in trouble he still tries to talk his way out of it, but if that doesn’t work immediately he tends to own up to his deeds.
The fully mature Otus is a more graceful creature than his fluffy dibbun body bespoke. He’s still very impulsive, but he now has the ability to literally fly away from any danger he may get himself into. His outspoken nature is now tempered with some wisdom, and while he’s never, ever, ever afraid to speak his mind, his advice is often good, though it’s sometimes poorly thought-out. His self-confidence has matured into a desire to nurture those less confident than himself, and he sometimes takes young shybeasts under his wing to show them the ropes of knowing themselves and using their strengths.
Dibbunhood: Though he doesn’t remember it, Otus was hatched at the western edge of Mossflower Woods in a tall dead oak tree with three other Scops owls; as the last to hatch of the four, he was the smallest. Within days of hatching, his siblings had crowded him towards the entrance hole to the cavity nest, where it was coldest and therefore the least desirable place to be. During a nighttime storm he was blown out and dropped to the forest floor many yards from the nest tree.
The next morning, he was found by a noisy group of Guosim who were paddling the rain-swollen stream. They took him in and several weeks later dropped him off at Redwall Abbey, where he was gladly taken in. His short stay with the Guosim, however, was extremely formative, since it occurred during the imprinting period. His proud, argumentative, and extremely loud nature is most likely a partial result of imprinting on the group of shrews. He is perfectly aware that he is an owl and not a shrew, but the tendencies remain nonetheless. The young Guosims in the group he traveled with made his shell necklace as a parting gift, which he treasures to this day.
During his dibbunhood at the abbey, Otus got into ridiculous amounts of trouble: he’d stay out late (nocturnal, after all); would be disruptive in the dormitories at all times with his bellows and shouts; shirked his duties to sleep during the day; was often caught stealing food (particularly hotroot soup—he sometimes drank his weight in it); made it a hobby to ambush dibbuns and grownbeasts alike and scare the living daylights out of them; would trick young otters into having hotroot soup-eating contests with him (which he would always win—he had few tastebuds and could therefore consume any concentration of hotroot pepper); and would often injure other dibbuns with his talons and beak (usually by accident. But not always…). When caught, his usual pattern of blame-shifting and tears came into play.
Otus built himself a little fort, rather like a nest, in the network of rafters in the roof of the abbey. He kept food, trinkets and toys, and sometimes his shell necklace there, hidden away from the other dibbuns. He didn’t spend all his time there, however, and played, explored, and made mischief with the other dibbuns for many long hours. True to his Guosim imprinting, he was especially fond of playing in the water with the otterbabes, and he enjoyed riding in boats. He couldn’t swim though, and almost drown several times when he overestimated his water-faring abilities. He began helping with fishing for feasts; once the fisherbeasts had brought the fish to the boat, he would clamp one clawfoot into the fish’s spine and make a killing twist to end its life quickly and painlessly.
Adolescence/young adulthood: During his fledging period, essentially his young adulthood, Otus began to grow stronger and learn to fly. He grew a little overconfident one day, though, and tried hopping from rafter to rafter before his flight feathers were in completely; he slipped and plummeted to the floor of the Great Hall. Though he achieved enough lift to keep himself from dying upon impact, he still broke his right leg. He still limped after it healed, and he couldn’t grip things very well with his right footclaw; his left footclaw became stronger to compensate.
As soon as it was safe for him to leave the abbey, Otus began making regular visits to his Guosim friends. He sharpened his boating and fishing skills during his stays with them, though he still wasn’t able to swim.
At this age, Otus also began experimenting with flying techniques, particularly stealth flight and aerial fighting, mostly for self-defense. He reasoned that he was a predator, and it would be better for him to fight than for his friends, peaceful by nature, to have to go against their instincts and harm anotherbeast. He also gained the job of abbey crier, using his loud voice to make announcements all across the abbey grounds. During the lonesome nights when he wasn’t exploring the area on his newfound wings, he would sit atop the weather vane and keep a silent watch over Redwall. It was probably these hours of solitude which helped bring his personality to fruition.
Hotroot soup (still), other otter dishes, and now Guosim fare were his favorite foods at this age.
Adulthood: As a mature owl, Otus turned his limp into a confident swagger, though his left footclaw remains stronger than his right. His movements on the wing are stately and silent, and in the forest or at night he is no more than a breath of air. He is very good at fighting on the wing now, relying on stealth attacks and hit-and-run tactics.
By now, Otus has learned to catch small fish entirely on his own. He often fishes at night, and his methods of swoop-and-grab make him appear like a sort of osprey of the night. He continues to love boating, water, and wading, and now carries a sponge dipped in oil to rub over his contour feathers to waterproof them.
Otus rarely stays in the abbey anymore, and for a time adventured with his Guosim friends before joining the Sea Patrol. He’s been on several voyages on the Windsurfer, where he generally acts as a lookout. He is not allowed to help with cooking and he’s never, ever allowed to season the whole crew’s food—after eating so much hotroot soup throughout his life, what few tastebuds he once had are now utterly burned away, and he’s a terrible judge of how spicy food is. He will literally eat anything now, since he can’t taste anything, but he does dislike foods with dry, grainy textures. He absolutely does not care what he drinks, since it’s all a similar texture and he can’t taste the difference. He has picked up quite a bit of seafaring talk with the patrol, and bellows both salty insults and swashbuckling conversations from the mast.
**Otus arrived on the scene of pillow chaos and leapt into the fray without a second thought.
The fluffy owlet had heard the commotion from high in the rafters outside the dormitory; laughs and shouts had echoed between the walls and reverberated in his keen ears. With a dance of delight he’d launched himself from a ceiling beam to a wall sconce, and from there to the floor, talons scrambling for purchase against the worn sandstone as he made an ungainly dash for the dormitory.**
Wai’ fo’ meeeeee!
**Otus crashed through the door and bounced off a sturdy ottermaid who stood just inside the doorway. He fell sprawling on his back, his bare gray footclaws flailing wildly as he tried to get up again. The ottermiad whipped around and boffed him with a pillow despite his downed position.**
Take dat, flufferface!
**Hooting with laughter, Otus sank his talons into the pillow and yanked hard. The ottermaid released it with a squeal, and Otus rolled back to his feet and gripped the pillow in his beak. His voice was muffled as he tried to speak around the pillow, thwacking away at her between each word.**
Imma **thwack** gonna **thwack** getchu! **thwack th--** ---gwah!
**The ottermaid had dodged the final blow, and the pillow, nearly as heavy as Otus himself, overbalanced the featherweight owlet; his fall was cushioned, and he flapped his stubby wings this way and that as he attempted to get to his footclaws again. The ottermaid flopped on top of him and tickled him with a feather from the pillow. Several other dibbuns followed suit until there was a dibbunpile on top of Otus, who was rather like a pillow himself.**
No faiw! No faiw! Heeheehahahoohoooo!
**But Otus himself was also a tickle machine. He wriggled his downy wings all about, and many of the dibbuns rolled off him like water off a duck, shrieking with laughter. He had learned this technique in his first several weeks at the abbey, back when he really was nothing but a fluffball. He felt he’d grown a lot since then, and he never ceased showing off his growing skillset to everybeast who would watch.
The moment the last dibbun was off him, he scrambled across the floor to snatch up a new pillow. He hopped up onto an unmade bed with it and spread out his little wings, spitting the pillow out so he could take an enormous lungful of air and expend it all in a single bellow.**
IMMA GETCHU ALL!
**And with that, the little ball of owl fuzz cannoned back into the pillow fight.**
Species: Owl (Scops Owl)
Gender: Male
Dibbun Weapon: Beak and talons
Adult Weapon: Beak and talons, coupled with flight maneuvers
Appearance
As an owlet, Otus’ body is entirely covered in soft, fuzzy, light tan down. He has fuzzy little eartufts, also made of down, atop his large head, and his beak is small, hooked, sharp, and a silver-gray. He has wire-like black bristles beside his beak that wiggle when he moves his cheek muscles—they droop when he’s sad, quiver when he’s happy or excited, and stick straight out when he’s angry or afraid; he retains these bristles and their associated movements throughout his life. Otus’ round eyes are enormous at this age, taking up nearly half his face, and the dark pupil make up most of the eye surface, but he has yellow-gold irises that are just barely visible around the edges. His short wing and tail feathers are very fuzzy at this stage, and can’t even break his fall or help him glide, but they look slightly more like adult feathers and have a mottled gray-brown coloration. He preens these baby flight feathers proudly and often shows them off. Like most owls, his legs have feathers on them down to his feet, which are bare and have four gray “toes,” two of which point backwards and two forwards. He has sharp talons on the end of each toe, which are the same silver-gray as his beak. Otus’ overall size is very small (and nearly half of his stature is taken up with Very Large Head), about the size of a mouse of a similar age, though he’s far fluffier than most young mice.
As an adult, Otus’ flight and tail feathers have come in, allowing him to fly; in flight, his wings stretch to more than twice his body length and are perfectly silent. He is an extremely adept and agile flier. His feathers are a marbled dusky gray with a hint of brown, like the color of old leaves, and his belly has darker black lines running down it. His eartufts are much longer now and curve out of his head, looking almost like feathered horns. His beak and talons are still gray but the silver tints have darkened to a bluish. His eyes are far smaller proportionally, since they haven’t grown at all since he was a dibbun (the rest of his face filled out), and the pupils are now far smaller; the bright yellow-gold iris now takes up more than half of each keen eye. His overall body is still smaller than most other owl species, and he’s shorter than the average adult squirrel, though his ear tufts reach up about as far as a squirrel’s ears.
As a dibbun, Otus never wears clothes, though occasionally he’ll don a light sash of woven grass; he loops the brown-green sash over one wing-shoulder and down around his body on the other side, the way a satchel might be worn. He does, in fact, sometimes attach a satchel to it, but he can only care light items, such as food or scrolls. He also has a necklace of woven hemp and river shells, which he only wears for special occasions because of its weight. He protects this necklace fiercely and keeps it hidden in the rafters.
As an adult, Otus is able to carry heavier shoulder-bags made of thick cloth and flexible bark, but he has to wear a special harness with one bag on each side to balance him out if he wants to fly. He wears a green sash made of habit-cloth when he’s in Redwall Abbey, to symbolize his affiliation with the abbey order. He has taken apart the shell necklace of his dibbunhood and made it into a set of lovely decorations, including a white-corded necklace with a single large shell hanging from it, and several leg-bangles that make a pleasing sound as he walks. Most of these shell ornaments are still reserved for special occasions; however, he has a woven anklet with a single polished mussel shell that catches the light as he walks or flies, that he wears at all times on his right leg.
Personality
As a dibbun, Otus is brash, bold, rude, impulsive to the point of recklessness, and extremely loud. He never stops shouting when he speaks—if he’s not making the loudest noise of anyone in the room, he quickly changes that. He overestimates his own abilities and is often arrogant to others; grownbeasts can see through his exaggerations, but dibbuns often believe him. Otus is territorial of his few possessions, and hides them away in the ceiling beams and rafter networks of the abbey. He has an excellent memory and never forgets where he’s placed something. When Otus is caught in a misdemeanor, he first tries to talk his way out of it; if this fails, he begins shifting blame to otherbeasts; if this doesn’t work, he’ll make excuses for himself; and finally, all else failing, he bursts into tears. Punishment generally follows in spite of these efforts, which he takes grudgingly.
Otus’ young adult seasons are characterized by a mellowing of his personality and interpersonal relations. He essentially begins to discover himself as he fledges—he learns better his true strengths and weaknesses and grows to be comfortable in his role. The abbey leaders begin to work with him a little more on his unusual (compared to other abbeybeasts) nocturnal nature, and his duties shift to accommodate a different schedule. Because he is now allowed to sleep during the day, he begins to make more of an effort to spend time with his fellow youngbeasts during breakfast and dinner each day, instead of stealing food and eating it at night. His arrogance-turned-self-confidence is appealing to many beasts, and he grows to have an air of responsibility and dependability. He remains bold and outspoken and still loud at most points, but even while his flight feathers grow longer and longer, his politeness too grows greater. He remains impulsive and reckless, however, doing almost anything that comes into his birdbrain. When he gets in trouble he still tries to talk his way out of it, but if that doesn’t work immediately he tends to own up to his deeds.
The fully mature Otus is a more graceful creature than his fluffy dibbun body bespoke. He’s still very impulsive, but he now has the ability to literally fly away from any danger he may get himself into. His outspoken nature is now tempered with some wisdom, and while he’s never, ever, ever afraid to speak his mind, his advice is often good, though it’s sometimes poorly thought-out. His self-confidence has matured into a desire to nurture those less confident than himself, and he sometimes takes young shybeasts under his wing to show them the ropes of knowing themselves and using their strengths.
History
Dibbunhood: Though he doesn’t remember it, Otus was hatched at the western edge of Mossflower Woods in a tall dead oak tree with three other Scops owls; as the last to hatch of the four, he was the smallest. Within days of hatching, his siblings had crowded him towards the entrance hole to the cavity nest, where it was coldest and therefore the least desirable place to be. During a nighttime storm he was blown out and dropped to the forest floor many yards from the nest tree.
The next morning, he was found by a noisy group of Guosim who were paddling the rain-swollen stream. They took him in and several weeks later dropped him off at Redwall Abbey, where he was gladly taken in. His short stay with the Guosim, however, was extremely formative, since it occurred during the imprinting period. His proud, argumentative, and extremely loud nature is most likely a partial result of imprinting on the group of shrews. He is perfectly aware that he is an owl and not a shrew, but the tendencies remain nonetheless. The young Guosims in the group he traveled with made his shell necklace as a parting gift, which he treasures to this day.
During his dibbunhood at the abbey, Otus got into ridiculous amounts of trouble: he’d stay out late (nocturnal, after all); would be disruptive in the dormitories at all times with his bellows and shouts; shirked his duties to sleep during the day; was often caught stealing food (particularly hotroot soup—he sometimes drank his weight in it); made it a hobby to ambush dibbuns and grownbeasts alike and scare the living daylights out of them; would trick young otters into having hotroot soup-eating contests with him (which he would always win—he had few tastebuds and could therefore consume any concentration of hotroot pepper); and would often injure other dibbuns with his talons and beak (usually by accident. But not always…). When caught, his usual pattern of blame-shifting and tears came into play.
Otus built himself a little fort, rather like a nest, in the network of rafters in the roof of the abbey. He kept food, trinkets and toys, and sometimes his shell necklace there, hidden away from the other dibbuns. He didn’t spend all his time there, however, and played, explored, and made mischief with the other dibbuns for many long hours. True to his Guosim imprinting, he was especially fond of playing in the water with the otterbabes, and he enjoyed riding in boats. He couldn’t swim though, and almost drown several times when he overestimated his water-faring abilities. He began helping with fishing for feasts; once the fisherbeasts had brought the fish to the boat, he would clamp one clawfoot into the fish’s spine and make a killing twist to end its life quickly and painlessly.
Adolescence/young adulthood: During his fledging period, essentially his young adulthood, Otus began to grow stronger and learn to fly. He grew a little overconfident one day, though, and tried hopping from rafter to rafter before his flight feathers were in completely; he slipped and plummeted to the floor of the Great Hall. Though he achieved enough lift to keep himself from dying upon impact, he still broke his right leg. He still limped after it healed, and he couldn’t grip things very well with his right footclaw; his left footclaw became stronger to compensate.
As soon as it was safe for him to leave the abbey, Otus began making regular visits to his Guosim friends. He sharpened his boating and fishing skills during his stays with them, though he still wasn’t able to swim.
At this age, Otus also began experimenting with flying techniques, particularly stealth flight and aerial fighting, mostly for self-defense. He reasoned that he was a predator, and it would be better for him to fight than for his friends, peaceful by nature, to have to go against their instincts and harm anotherbeast. He also gained the job of abbey crier, using his loud voice to make announcements all across the abbey grounds. During the lonesome nights when he wasn’t exploring the area on his newfound wings, he would sit atop the weather vane and keep a silent watch over Redwall. It was probably these hours of solitude which helped bring his personality to fruition.
Hotroot soup (still), other otter dishes, and now Guosim fare were his favorite foods at this age.
Adulthood: As a mature owl, Otus turned his limp into a confident swagger, though his left footclaw remains stronger than his right. His movements on the wing are stately and silent, and in the forest or at night he is no more than a breath of air. He is very good at fighting on the wing now, relying on stealth attacks and hit-and-run tactics.
By now, Otus has learned to catch small fish entirely on his own. He often fishes at night, and his methods of swoop-and-grab make him appear like a sort of osprey of the night. He continues to love boating, water, and wading, and now carries a sponge dipped in oil to rub over his contour feathers to waterproof them.
Otus rarely stays in the abbey anymore, and for a time adventured with his Guosim friends before joining the Sea Patrol. He’s been on several voyages on the Windsurfer, where he generally acts as a lookout. He is not allowed to help with cooking and he’s never, ever allowed to season the whole crew’s food—after eating so much hotroot soup throughout his life, what few tastebuds he once had are now utterly burned away, and he’s a terrible judge of how spicy food is. He will literally eat anything now, since he can’t taste anything, but he does dislike foods with dry, grainy textures. He absolutely does not care what he drinks, since it’s all a similar texture and he can’t taste the difference. He has picked up quite a bit of seafaring talk with the patrol, and bellows both salty insults and swashbuckling conversations from the mast.
Roleplay Sample
**Otus arrived on the scene of pillow chaos and leapt into the fray without a second thought.
The fluffy owlet had heard the commotion from high in the rafters outside the dormitory; laughs and shouts had echoed between the walls and reverberated in his keen ears. With a dance of delight he’d launched himself from a ceiling beam to a wall sconce, and from there to the floor, talons scrambling for purchase against the worn sandstone as he made an ungainly dash for the dormitory.**
Wai’ fo’ meeeeee!
**Otus crashed through the door and bounced off a sturdy ottermaid who stood just inside the doorway. He fell sprawling on his back, his bare gray footclaws flailing wildly as he tried to get up again. The ottermiad whipped around and boffed him with a pillow despite his downed position.**
Take dat, flufferface!
**Hooting with laughter, Otus sank his talons into the pillow and yanked hard. The ottermaid released it with a squeal, and Otus rolled back to his feet and gripped the pillow in his beak. His voice was muffled as he tried to speak around the pillow, thwacking away at her between each word.**
Imma **thwack** gonna **thwack** getchu! **thwack th--** ---gwah!
**The ottermaid had dodged the final blow, and the pillow, nearly as heavy as Otus himself, overbalanced the featherweight owlet; his fall was cushioned, and he flapped his stubby wings this way and that as he attempted to get to his footclaws again. The ottermaid flopped on top of him and tickled him with a feather from the pillow. Several other dibbuns followed suit until there was a dibbunpile on top of Otus, who was rather like a pillow himself.**
No faiw! No faiw! Heeheehahahoohoooo!
**But Otus himself was also a tickle machine. He wriggled his downy wings all about, and many of the dibbuns rolled off him like water off a duck, shrieking with laughter. He had learned this technique in his first several weeks at the abbey, back when he really was nothing but a fluffball. He felt he’d grown a lot since then, and he never ceased showing off his growing skillset to everybeast who would watch.
The moment the last dibbun was off him, he scrambled across the floor to snatch up a new pillow. He hopped up onto an unmade bed with it and spread out his little wings, spitting the pillow out so he could take an enormous lungful of air and expend it all in a single bellow.**
IMMA GETCHU ALL!
**And with that, the little ball of owl fuzz cannoned back into the pillow fight.**
Well, they're in the kitchen now so if you want you can have him end up there maybe? Or near them?
2024 can be the year of your return 