Pen

Birthday
TBA
Name Origin
"To write or compose."
Sexuality
Undecided
Gender
Non-binary
Sex
AMAB

Purchased traits
x1 Disability, x1 Ability to write, x1 Small Myo, x2 Single small bag, x1 Additional small bag, Collar [x1 fabric area + accessories], x2 Small Complex Natural Accesories
Size class
Small
Weight class
Spry
Plot Death
Yes
Alt
Went exploring in the woods and never came home.
Appearance
Pen is a small canid like avus with an off-white body and dark stripes overtop. They also posess a very long beak that houses many teeth=like formations that run down more than half their bill. The very tip of the beak tapers into two sharp ends that almost look like weirdly shapes incisors. When startled, the long fur along their back bristles into a tall mane that trails from the back of their head all the way down to the their hips.

Nestling-Fledgeling
With the chill are of the winter night, the gryphus hatchling was welcomes to the world with the biting cold that nipped at their fragile skin. It wasn't long before someone noticed the newly concious being before burying them in black and white fur, fending off the frigid air. Their family wasn't too big, with their fathers and two older siblings. To say that the thin-beaked fledgeling disliked their siblings was an understatement, their play far too rough for the little pup, often ending with Pen having to be rescued by one of their fathers.

Sub-adult
Over time, the small family had come to realize that their youngest member wasn't too keen on speaking around others. They'd chatter away to their fathers, and while they may clam up a bit around their rougher siblings, they still spoke some. However, in the presence of others, they'd refuse to utter a word. No matter how much any avus tried to coax words from their beak, not a single sound slipped out. It wasn't that big of a deal to Pen, they liked how they were and didn't care if it made things difficult as far as communication, it would be a "burden" they'd bear if thats what it took to make themselves comfortable in new situations. Most weren't too keen on 'dealing' with this though, more often than not giving up on trying to understand Pen's gestures or even flat out ignoring them. While it stung a bit, it wouldn't be nearly enough to bring them down.

Pen and his siblings were always fascinated with the scary stories told by the fire during the gatherer's festival. They and their parents had been visiting Cloverleaf for some sort of trade discussion, allowing the siblings to wander about the city while the two took care of business. One of the elders talked about a haunted valley that lay in the east, where a beast lies in slumber and the spirits of foolish avus that ventured into it's territory are trapped and subjected to an insatiable thirst for battle. It was unlike any story they'd ever heard! While they hadn't exactly heard many.... but this one was by far the best! Even days after, the three kept chattering away about what this beast could be, or if it was even real to begin with. It was only after the discussion of the story's legitimacy turned into an argument did things take a turn. Frustrated with Pen's belief in this make-believe creature, Print gave him a challenge. If they wanted Print and Scrawl to believe this creature was real, then they'd go to the valley and wait for Pen to bring it out! And if the youngest wasn't out by sunrise, they'd agree it wasn't real, find Pen, then head home. They could never be able to explain the sudden wave of courage that hit them hard enough to accept such a terrifying proposal...

Two days later, all three took off to the valley after telling their parents they'd be staying over at a "friends" house that didn't truly exist. It was around mid afternoon when they'd arrived, the sky coated in clouds with the distant rumble of thunder. Pen was admittedly scared of the thought of going in alone, tail tucked and paws planted firmly in the ground as they reached it's 'entrance.' "You can always back out." Scrawl said in a mocking tone, which only served to aggitated them into moving. "We'll be right here for whenever you bring it out!" Print called, as they started to set up a temperary rest.

The valley felt darker the further they went, skittish limbs flailing about at every snap of the twig or caw of a crow. After an hour or two, it'd begun to drizzle. The pidder padder of rain on stone resonated through the crevice, as Pen tried to make their way to higher ground. The small gryphus traversed the steep wall and it's semi-carved out paths as the storm started to grow in ferocity. They were starting to get nervous, the rumble of thunder growing closer as their mane started to raise upon their back at the feeling of being watched. Ears perked and pupils narrowed, they'd trot further ahead as the faint sound of...

Steps? Could it be? Had Print and Scrawl really come all this way to save them?! Their mind cried out with joy at the prospect, the over-arching branches of the twisted trees proving too difficult to take flight in the small place. It sounded like it came from above? Perhaps they were near the top of the vale to find them easier. Short claws dug into slipper stone as Pen made their way to the upper levels, rain now pouring down on the poor avus as they shivered and shook from both cold and fear. They wished they would've just said no, to simply go back home and call it a day. But no. Their stupid 'pride' overtook any sense of self-preservation, as their gaze traveled up and up to see a large form, standing at a higher level. Pen couldn't tell what exactly it was, the rain obscuring their vision, but they knew it wasn't their siblings. Their siblings weren't that tall, and their eyes didn't gleam with a piercing ice-blue, and their voices didn't come out as a haunting bellow like this one's did. Their trance was only broken after the winged beast launched from it's perch, swooping down and slashing at the terrified gryphus as their grip on the stone was forced to break.

They couldn't really remember what happened next, the roaring of thunder, the sound of their own ragged breath, the feeling of rain pelting their hide and mud slicking their paws. Pen ran and ran, their heart beating in their ears as they slunk into a small crevace to hide from the creature. Their breath ragged as they quivered from fear and cold, it was only now that the gryphus became concious of the ever-present stinging in their right eye. The pain wasn't the fact that they clung onto, the most worrying part of it was the fact that they couldn't see out of it. They could feel the slight warmth trailing down their cheek, trying to focus on both their wound as well as where the attacker may be. Huddled into a tiny outcrop in the crevice they hid in, Pen curled up as tightly as they could and prayed to whatever dragon may be listening that this night would be over.

They awoke to the faint calls of their siblings, their near frantic tones echoing into the valley. Pen body felt frigid and damp, as they croaked out a response in the hopes their siblings might hear. There was a sharp gasp, as well as the sound of paws sprinting in their direction. They don't really remember much of what happened after, things just got fuzzy. What they do remember was the sound of their sisters voices, their bodies holding him close, the wonderful warmth that seeped into their frozen figure.

They awoke again to the sound of voices, most familiar but one was vague in their mind. It was much warmer now, and his neck felt noticably...tighter? They could feel the soft fabric and the cool metal that clung to their neck, but they felt too sore to do much more than feel. They think it was the resident shaman, Mettle, that'd they heard, because it wasn't the last time they'd hear that voice. As their wound continued to heal, they started seeing more of this individual, though she wasn't the only one they were starting to see...they started catching glimpses of things just outside their vision. Sometimes they'd be distant, a foggy, dark shape with bright eyes that contrasted their body. Other times, Pen would only catch a glimpse in their peripherals before it fled from their sight.

Mettle's pitch black fur and piercing eyes became common place to see, though they hadn't a clue why. She wasn't a physician? Why were they still here? Every question asked was pushed aside by their fathers, and any they asked their sisters were met with a grimace as they turned away in guilt. It wasn't until they scrounged up the courage did they ask Mettle why they were here. She told it to Pen simply. "The spirit that attacked you has placed a curse on you. Until your scar has healed, I cannot bestow my token. So for now, we will continue our weekly clensing." Her answer did little to comfort them, as they frantically begged for more explanation than just that. They were only met with a scolding hush before she went back to her work. Though when they asked about the collar, she stated that it was to held fend off any other 'bad spirits that may be attracted to the scent of a curse.'

Adult
Pen's mind has been scattered ever since that day, every sudden bird call or snapping twig causing them a frantic whip of the head to discover the source of noise. It took a while for the wound to heal, and even longer for the 'token' to settle. It was a golden disk with engravings facing outward. Mettle told them it'd would keep their affliction at bay, and to come to her when it needs to be removed. Although she tried to comfort their worries, it did little to help. Their footfalls were quick as they traversed through towns, eye wide as they skimmed the features of each and every avus they passed. Their pupil was always searching for any 'spirit' that may hide in the crowd, only feeling at peace when near an avus familiar to them. Their skittish nature, non-verbal communication, and the charms that adorned their body didn't seemed to send a comforting message to those around them. They could just about feel the stares boring into them, hearing the near silent whispers as others turned their gaze. It didn't help that these misgivings followed them like a tick to a dog. They often skipped from town to town when writing for shops, because the last time they stayed too long, they were chased out by a particularly peeved ceramicist who's poor pots were shattered after the shelf they rested upon suddenly came loose from it's place on the wall. This wasn't the...first incident of Pen's unfortunate timing, from sudden leaky ceilings to spontaniously spilled honey, it felt like they were the walking embodiement inconvenience. Mettle believes that the minor chaos they were the left-over residue of this 'curse' that the token counter-acted. Their sisters however, sought to comfort them from this thought by shedding a bit more light onto these 'events'. "You see? That shelf has probably been holding up tons of pots over the years! It was just old and happened to break." "It looks like a bird took some thatch from the ceiling, causing the leak, not you." Even with their sisters' remarks, they had no idea what to think, opting to simply take out the middle-man and not overstay their welcome in any future town they'd found themselves in.

Elder
N/a

KIN AND CLOSE RELATIONSHIPS:

OTHER:

RP'S PARTICIPATED IN:

Height
51 cm
Length(W/out Tail)
76 cm
Length(W/ Tail)
55 cm
Weight
10 lb
Wing Span
66 cm
Average MPH(On foot)
25
Average MPH(In flight)
35-60

Likes

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Dislikes

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Trivia

• Pen won't talk verbally unless they are completely comfortable with the environment as well as the indivdiual they're talking to.
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