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Description

Basics:
"Senbei" | Appears 30 | Male | Hoshido
5'11" | 170 lbs | Kitsune | February 6th

Class Stats:
● Kitsune
● Beaststone | C
● Even Handed: Enemy takes an additional 6 damage at every even-numbered turn.
Base Stats:
LVL: 1
HP: 30
STR: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
MAG: 🁣 (0)
SKL: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
SPD: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
LCK: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢 (6)
DEF: 🁢🁢🁢 (3)
RES: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (5)
MOV: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢 (6)

Personal Info:
✔︎✔︎ Sunshowers | Rice Crackers | Tofu | Green Tea | Sake | Shrine Bells | Children | Reading
✘✘ Getting Wet | Holy Magic | Fennel and Mint | Dogs and Wolfskins

Personality:
● he's a fuckin' mess alright, this asshole

History:
A long time ago, a Priest ran a small temple on the outskirts of a small Hoshidan village. The Priest was kind and faithful, and his shrine, while small, was well-loved, his pride and joy. It did not see many visitors from day to day, but it wasn't a lonely job, thought the Priest — the villagers came and prayed on holy days and festivals, and he blessed their children and healed their hurts, and it was enough to share in their joys. The rest of the time, he was at peace simply keeping the temple tidy, tending to its garden, and living a life of contemplation and prayer.

One day, the Priest was taking a walk through the woods, as he did whenever the day was warm and bright, when he heard a mournful keening. At first, he thought it the sound of a woman's scream, or even a child's wailing, and he rushed off without a second thought into the trees. He left the trail behind him, and the woods soon became dark and unfamiliar, but finally he found the source of the scream. It was not a woman or a child, but a fox, a large one, with a flaxen coat that gleamed in the dim light beneath the trees. The Priest approached cautiously, and saw that the fox was caught in a hunter's trap, steel teeth biting into its leg and holding fast. The fur along its leg was stained with blood, and its eyes were wild and desperate. He tried to get close, intent on freeing the poor creature, but the animal snapped and hissed at him. Nevertheless, the Priest persisted. The fox scratched and snarled, but the Priest steeled himself, clamped his hands around the jaws of the trap, and pulled, and pulled, until finally, the metal teeth came apart.

The fox sprang immediately out of its grip, and for several long moments, the Priest and newly-freed fox stared at one another. The Priest soon realized that, despite the animal's fear and caution, it was in no position to go running off — he could see now that the trap had savaged the fox's leg to little more than a bloody tatter of muscle. His heart swelled with pity for the creature, even as it tried to appear threatening in its wretched state. Determined, the Priest once more fended off tooth and claw, took the fox up in his arms, and started the long walk back to the Temple.

The Priest worked all the healing magic at his disposal, weaving spell after spell, and finally, the danger was past. But though he managed to save the fox's life, he could not save the fox's mutilated leg. So the fox recovered at the Temple under the Priest's watchful eye. Once it regained some of its strength, he saw how it struggled to move without its now-missing limb.

This poor creature may never be able to return to its home in the woods now, the Priest thought. Somehow, the idea didn't upset the Priest as much as it should have. In the days following its rescue, the Priest came to enjoy the fox's companionship (especially once it stopped trying to bite him every time he came near). Eventually, it even seemed fond of him, curling up beside him when he sat on the porch in the evening, or trailing behind him as he tended to the temple garden. With every passing day, the fox recovered a little more, re-learning how to walk with three legs instead of four, and with every passing day, the Priest found himself hoping that it would never leave.

Senbei the Priest called the fox. A silly name, after the rice crackers he fed it for treats, but it was cute, and the Priest had a feeling that the fox liked it. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and the Priest began to wonder if he really had been lonely after all, if even the companionship of a lost and wounded animal could bring him such happiness.

And then one morning the Priest woke to find Senbei gone. He checked the temple, the grounds, the larder, the garden, but the fox was nowhere to be found. He waited until evening, hoping that his little friend would return, but night fell without so much as a glimpse of fine golden fur. He spent his night poorly after that, filled with worry. At some point between sporadic fits of sleep, he had a dream.

In his dream, he wept. He wept for the things he didn't allow himself to mourn in the waking world, the loneliness he couldn't acknowledge, the fear he felt for the creature that had broken that loneliness. It was just an animal, and yet — And yet. And then from out of the dream, a hand reached forward and wiped his tears away. He looked towards it, too fatigued to even feel surprise, and saw the face of a beautiful young man. He had dark skin the color of sandalwood and hair like wheat, but it was his eyes that mesmerized the Priest. Even in the haze of his dream, he could see clearly the deep golden color of his intent eyes, and they reminded him of . . . What did they remind him of, again? It was difficult to follow the path of his own thoughts as the beautiful young man leaned over him, and in the dark, the moonlight from the unseen sky glinted off those golden eyes. The Priest's movements were sluggish, weighed down by sleep, but he didn't feel unsafe.

When the Priest woke in the morning, he was embarrassed to see that he had been crying in his sleep. He was embarrassed even further to realize that, as the morning went on, he couldn't get the beautiful young man from his dreams out of his mind. As he swept, he could feel those golden eyes following him, and the dream played out again and again as he made tea, and even when he prayed he could not forget the softness of his hair and the smoothness of his skin. Just when he finally managed to put it out of his mind while beating out the temple's rugs, he heard a sharp sound come from outside. He went to go see what it was, his heart lifting into his throat as he thought, maybe, Senbei had returned —

— And found the same man from his dream kneeling just outside the door.

The Priest listened half in shock as the man explained himself. He was 'Senbei', and he had disappeared into the woods to find the beaststone that he had lost when he'd been caught in the hunter's trap, now that he finally had the strength to venture out on his own. He was no mere fox, but a kitsune, one of the fabled transforming beasts from the mountains. Their kind was so rare, the Priest had assumed that they were a myth, creatures of legends and stories made up by overzealous hunters and bewitched men. But Senbei demonstrated for the Priest how easy it was to transform between his fox and humanoid form now that he had retrieved his beaststone, and the Priest was forced to believe that the man from his dream and the companion pet that he had come to love were one and the same. Furthermore, Senbei insisted that he owed the Priest his life, and that he intended to stay. And so he did.

Despite his initial embarrassment, the Priest quickly came to value the changed nature of his relationship with Senbei. Despite his appearance, Senbei had lived a much longer and more interesting life than the Priest had, owing to his kitsune nature. There were always details that Senbei refused to discuss, or glanced over, or laughed away, but the events of his life were so fascinating to the Priest that he didn't mind. He could listen for hours about the people he had known and the fights he'd won and the places he'd seen, all painting a picture of a world so much bigger than his tiny shrine and his tiny village. In return, Senbei approached the Priest's faith and piety with amused disregard, but admired his dedication and sense of purpose nevertheless. They passed countless days in each others' company, untiring and endlessly fascinating even in their quietest moments. Companionship deepened into affection, and affection into love, and in time, they lived together as a man and wife might live together.

Whenever the villagers came to the temple for the Priest's aid, Senbei would disappear without a trace, sometimes for days at a time. He would always return, of course, but eventually the Priest asked him why he did it. Senbei answered that he disliked the villagers, that the Priest was the only human he trusted, and that he thought the villagers were superstitious, anyway. He said nothing more, and asked nothing of the Priest in regards to it, but still, his answer weighed heavily on the Priests mind. When villagers came to the shrine thereafter, he hesitated. At first, he tried to offer alternatives to them that might help, mundane answers rather than divine intervention, encouraging them to help themselves rather than relying on him. Soon, however, he began to turn them away outright. If their presence meant Senbei's absence, he knew which outcome he preferred, even if pained him to do so. Sometimes he would go into the village instead, offering his aid where he could, but it was clear to the villagers that something had changed.

One day, a young man from the village came to the temple and would not be turned away. He was frantic, and Senbei had gone off on his own several days earlier anyway, so the Priest listened to his story. The young man said that he felt there was no one else he could turn to, that the other villagers said that the priest was no longer reliable but that he had to try. He told his story, speaking so fast he stumbled over ever word, and the Priest listened with an ever-deepening pit in his stomach. The young man's beloved was a merchant's daughter from the next village over. Her father wasn't the wealthiest of men, but he was much richer than the young man would ever be, and he lived in comfort in his big house. The young man knew he was lucky to have earned the attention of his beloved, but recently, her eye had strayed. The young man didn't know why or by whom, but he had been fearing the day when she told him that he had lost her love for good. He feared that day no longer, because she and her family and her entire household had been found dead in their home not two days before. A single maid had escaped, fleeing the village to find the young man for whom she had carried so many love letters. The maid told him that a great beast had come into the merchant's house and slaughtered the family like rabbits, a beast like a gigantic wolf, or maybe a fox. She was hysterical, and didn't know all the details, but claimed that only a demon could have done such carnage, and that it must have been a demon because, when it was all over, she saw the creature transform itself into a human shape.

When the young man finished his story, he begged the Priest to help him. If it truly was a demon, he could exorcise it and save the world from the monster that had killed his beloved. Please, he begged. Be the man the village once knew you to be. But the Priest swallowed the lump in his throat, and asked the young man to leave, that he had some things he needed to consider before he could agree to help.

But even after the young man left, the Priest didn't know what to do. It must have been Senbei — somehow, there was no doubt in his mind about that, despite the loose details. And yet, with a frightening realization, the Priest's first instinct was to keep Senbei safe, to make sure the villagers never learned that that 'creature' called this shrine its home. Coming to that realization troubled the Priest more than even that gruesome story. Had love blinded him to Senbei's true nature, or had he lost his humanity entirely in coming to love a monster? Where had his faith gone to die in all that time?

The Priest waited up that night for Senbei to return, and he did. His voice shook slightly when he asked Senbei if he had done what the young man had told in his story. Yes he had, said Senbei, as easily as if it were just one of their many afternoon conversations. The merchant had offended him by sending fur trappers after him once, and he had repaid him in kind.

The Priest could imagine the scene in his head in vivid detail. Once, only a few years after they'd started living together, a trio of bandits had attempted to rob the temple. They'd tied the Priest up, knocked him unconscious, but when he woke he found nothing left of them but bodies torn to pieces and Senbei standing over them. The Priest imagined that the poor young merchant's daughter looked something like those bandits, ripped apart like the rest of her family for a crime she didn't know her father had committed. And yet, when Senbei asked him if something was wrong, the Priest answered no. He just wanted to know for sure.

The young man came back a few days later, but the Priest sent him away. He was sorry, he said, but there was nothing he could do. He hoped that the young man could find peace, but getting revenge on phantoms would not bring his beloved back. The young man was devastated, he was angry, but he turned to go nevertheless. Before he left, however, he saw a brief but clear glimpse of Senbei standing just inside the temple doors. The Priest didn't see. Senbei had never once showed himself to any of the villagers before, and he didn't imagine that he might start now.

The young man returned to the village, and he told them what he had seen. The form of a man he had never seen before, with a pair of fox's ears on his head and a tail curled around his feet. The villagers muttered about what it could mean, but the young man, enraged in his grief, told them what he thought it meant. Seduced by a demon, the Priest had turned away from the villagers, from his duties, and from goodness itself. They had to do something about it, or who else might fall victim to the beast? His words quickly came to life in the minds of the villagers, and as a whole, they set off towards the little temple in the woods that very night.

Trivia:
● The Priest's name was Yasunori.
● More things
● he eats humans, okay?
● His real name is Kuzunoha, though he goes by 'Senbei' because it was Yasunori's name for him as a fox. He finds it too amusing to let go.

RP: I RP lit most comfortably, ranging from a few to several paragraphs, depending on what I think the post requires. I never expect anyone to "match" a post — RPing is supposed to be fun, and feel natural! There's no sense in trying to force it to be longer or shorter than it has to be, or it becomes stressful. These days, I generally RP on Discord. If you're in the group, feel free to ask for my Discord info!

I'm also happy to headcanon, or whatever the kids call "squeeing about our OCs" these days.

Description

Basics:
"Senbei" | Appears 30 | Male | Hoshido
5'11" | 170 lbs | Kitsune | February 6th

Class Stats:
● Kitsune
● Beaststone | C
● Even Handed: Enemy takes an additional 6 damage at every even-numbered turn.
Base Stats:
LVL: 1
HP: 30
STR: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
MAG: 🁣 (0)
SKL: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
SPD: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (10)
LCK: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢 (6)
DEF: 🁢🁢🁢 (3)
RES: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 (5)
MOV: 🁢🁢🁢🁢🁢 🁢 (6)

Personal Info:
✔︎✔︎ Sunshowers | Rice Crackers | Tofu | Green Tea | Sake | Shrine Bells | Children | Reading
✘✘ Getting Wet | Holy Magic | Fennel and Mint | Dogs and Wolfskins

Personality:
● he's a fuckin' mess alright, this asshole

History:
A long time ago, a Priest ran a small temple on the outskirts of a small Hoshidan village. The Priest was kind and faithful, and his shrine, while small, was well-loved, his pride and joy. It did not see many visitors from day to day, but it wasn't a lonely job, thought the Priest — the villagers came and prayed on holy days and festivals, and he blessed their children and healed their hurts, and it was enough to share in their joys. The rest of the time, he was at peace simply keeping the temple tidy, tending to its garden, and living a life of contemplation and prayer.

One day, the Priest was taking a walk through the woods, as he did whenever the day was warm and bright, when he heard a mournful keening. At first, he thought it the sound of a woman's scream, or even a child's wailing, and he rushed off without a second thought into the trees. He left the trail behind him, and the woods soon became dark and unfamiliar, but finally he found the source of the scream. It was not a woman or a child, but a fox, a large one, with a flaxen coat that gleamed in the dim light beneath the trees. The Priest approached cautiously, and saw that the fox was caught in a hunter's trap, steel teeth biting into its leg and holding fast. The fur along its leg was stained with blood, and its eyes were wild and desperate. He tried to get close, intent on freeing the poor creature, but the animal snapped and hissed at him. Nevertheless, the Priest persisted. The fox scratched and snarled, but the Priest steeled himself, clamped his hands around the jaws of the trap, and pulled, and pulled, until finally, the metal teeth came apart.

The fox sprang immediately out of its grip, and for several long moments, the Priest and newly-freed fox stared at one another. The Priest soon realized that, despite the animal's fear and caution, it was in no position to go running off — he could see now that the trap had savaged the fox's leg to little more than a bloody tatter of muscle. His heart swelled with pity for the creature, even as it tried to appear threatening in its wretched state. Determined, the Priest once more fended off tooth and claw, took the fox up in his arms, and started the long walk back to the Temple.

The Priest worked all the healing magic at his disposal, weaving spell after spell, and finally, the danger was past. But though he managed to save the fox's life, he could not save the fox's mutilated leg. So the fox recovered at the Temple under the Priest's watchful eye. Once it regained some of its strength, he saw how it struggled to move without its now-missing limb.

This poor creature may never be able to return to its home in the woods now, the Priest thought. Somehow, the idea didn't upset the Priest as much as it should have. In the days following its rescue, the Priest came to enjoy the fox's companionship (especially once it stopped trying to bite him every time he came near). Eventually, it even seemed fond of him, curling up beside him when he sat on the porch in the evening, or trailing behind him as he tended to the temple garden. With every passing day, the fox recovered a little more, re-learning how to walk with three legs instead of four, and with every passing day, the Priest found himself hoping that it would never leave.

Senbei the Priest called the fox. A silly name, after the rice crackers he fed it for treats, but it was cute, and the Priest had a feeling that the fox liked it. Days turned into weeks, and weeks into months, and the Priest began to wonder if he really had been lonely after all, if even the companionship of a lost and wounded animal could bring him such happiness.

And then one morning the Priest woke to find Senbei gone. He checked the temple, the grounds, the larder, the garden, but the fox was nowhere to be found. He waited until evening, hoping that his little friend would return, but night fell without so much as a glimpse of fine golden fur. He spent his night poorly after that, filled with worry. At some point between sporadic fits of sleep, he had a dream.

In his dream, he wept. He wept for the things he didn't allow himself to mourn in the waking world, the loneliness he couldn't acknowledge, the fear he felt for the creature that had broken that loneliness. It was just an animal, and yet — And yet. And then from out of the dream, a hand reached forward and wiped his tears away. He looked towards it, too fatigued to even feel surprise, and saw the face of a beautiful young man. He had dark skin the color of sandalwood and hair like wheat, but it was his eyes that mesmerized the Priest. Even in the haze of his dream, he could see clearly the deep golden color of his intent eyes, and they reminded him of . . . What did they remind him of, again? It was difficult to follow the path of his own thoughts as the beautiful young man leaned over him, and in the dark, the moonlight from the unseen sky glinted off those golden eyes. The Priest's movements were sluggish, weighed down by sleep, but he didn't feel unsafe.

When the Priest woke in the morning, he was embarrassed to see that he had been crying in his sleep. He was embarrassed even further to realize that, as the morning went on, he couldn't get the beautiful young man from his dreams out of his mind. As he swept, he could feel those golden eyes following him, and the dream played out again and again as he made tea, and even when he prayed he could not forget the softness of his hair and the smoothness of his skin. Just when he finally managed to put it out of his mind while beating out the temple's rugs, he heard a sharp sound come from outside. He went to go see what it was, his heart lifting into his throat as he thought, maybe, Senbei had returned —

— And found the same man from his dream kneeling just outside the door.

The Priest listened half in shock as the man explained himself. He was 'Senbei', and he had disappeared into the woods to find the beaststone that he had lost when he'd been caught in the hunter's trap, now that he finally had the strength to venture out on his own. He was no mere fox, but a kitsune, one of the fabled transforming beasts from the mountains. Their kind was so rare, the Priest had assumed that they were a myth, creatures of legends and stories made up by overzealous hunters and bewitched men. But Senbei demonstrated for the Priest how easy it was to transform between his fox and humanoid form now that he had retrieved his beaststone, and the Priest was forced to believe that the man from his dream and the companion pet that he had come to love were one and the same. Furthermore, Senbei insisted that he owed the Priest his life, and that he intended to stay. And so he did.

Despite his initial embarrassment, the Priest quickly came to value the changed nature of his relationship with Senbei. Despite his appearance, Senbei had lived a much longer and more interesting life than the Priest had, owing to his kitsune nature. There were always details that Senbei refused to discuss, or glanced over, or laughed away, but the events of his life were so fascinating to the Priest that he didn't mind. He could listen for hours about the people he had known and the fights he'd won and the places he'd seen, all painting a picture of a world so much bigger than his tiny shrine and his tiny village. In return, Senbei approached the Priest's faith and piety with amused disregard, but admired his dedication and sense of purpose nevertheless. They passed countless days in each others' company, untiring and endlessly fascinating even in their quietest moments. Companionship deepened into affection, and affection into love, and in time, they lived together as a man and wife might live together.

Whenever the villagers came to the temple for the Priest's aid, Senbei would disappear without a trace, sometimes for days at a time. He would always return, of course, but eventually the Priest asked him why he did it. Senbei answered that he disliked the villagers, that the Priest was the only human he trusted, and that he thought the villagers were superstitious, anyway. He said nothing more, and asked nothing of the Priest in regards to it, but still, his answer weighed heavily on the Priests mind. When villagers came to the shrine thereafter, he hesitated. At first, he tried to offer alternatives to them that might help, mundane answers rather than divine intervention, encouraging them to help themselves rather than relying on him. Soon, however, he began to turn them away outright. If their presence meant Senbei's absence, he knew which outcome he preferred, even if pained him to do so. Sometimes he would go into the village instead, offering his aid where he could, but it was clear to the villagers that something had changed.

One day, a young man from the village came to the temple and would not be turned away. He was frantic, and Senbei had gone off on his own several days earlier anyway, so the Priest listened to his story. The young man said that he felt there was no one else he could turn to, that the other villagers said that the priest was no longer reliable but that he had to try. He told his story, speaking so fast he stumbled over ever word, and the Priest listened with an ever-deepening pit in his stomach. The young man's beloved was a merchant's daughter from the next village over. Her father wasn't the wealthiest of men, but he was much richer than the young man would ever be, and he lived in comfort in his big house. The young man knew he was lucky to have earned the attention of his beloved, but recently, her eye had strayed. The young man didn't know why or by whom, but he had been fearing the day when she told him that he had lost her love for good. He feared that day no longer, because she and her family and her entire household had been found dead in their home not two days before. A single maid had escaped, fleeing the village to find the young man for whom she had carried so many love letters. The maid told him that a great beast had come into the merchant's house and slaughtered the family like rabbits, a beast like a gigantic wolf, or maybe a fox. She was hysterical, and didn't know all the details, but claimed that only a demon could have done such carnage, and that it must have been a demon because, when it was all over, she saw the creature transform itself into a human shape.

When the young man finished his story, he begged the Priest to help him. If it truly was a demon, he could exorcise it and save the world from the monster that had killed his beloved. Please, he begged. Be the man the village once knew you to be. But the Priest swallowed the lump in his throat, and asked the young man to leave, that he had some things he needed to consider before he could agree to help.

But even after the young man left, the Priest didn't know what to do. It must have been Senbei — somehow, there was no doubt in his mind about that, despite the loose details. And yet, with a frightening realization, the Priest's first instinct was to keep Senbei safe, to make sure the villagers never learned that that 'creature' called this shrine its home. Coming to that realization troubled the Priest more than even that gruesome story. Had love blinded him to Senbei's true nature, or had he lost his humanity entirely in coming to love a monster? Where had his faith gone to die in all that time?

The Priest waited up that night for Senbei to return, and he did. His voice shook slightly when he asked Senbei if he had done what the young man had told in his story. Yes he had, said Senbei, as easily as if it were just one of their many afternoon conversations. The merchant had offended him by sending fur trappers after him once, and he had repaid him in kind.

The Priest could imagine the scene in his head in vivid detail. Once, only a few years after they'd started living together, a trio of bandits had attempted to rob the temple. They'd tied the Priest up, knocked him unconscious, but when he woke he found nothing left of them but bodies torn to pieces and Senbei standing over them. The Priest imagined that the poor young merchant's daughter looked something like those bandits, ripped apart like the rest of her family for a crime she didn't know her father had committed. And yet, when Senbei asked him if something was wrong, the Priest answered no. He just wanted to know for sure.

The young man came back a few days later, but the Priest sent him away. He was sorry, he said, but there was nothing he could do. He hoped that the young man could find peace, but getting revenge on phantoms would not bring his beloved back. The young man was devastated, he was angry, but he turned to go nevertheless. Before he left, however, he saw a brief but clear glimpse of Senbei standing just inside the temple doors. The Priest didn't see. Senbei had never once showed himself to any of the villagers before, and he didn't imagine that he might start now.

The young man returned to the village, and he told them what he had seen. The form of a man he had never seen before, with a pair of fox's ears on his head and a tail curled around his feet. The villagers muttered about what it could mean, but the young man, enraged in his grief, told them what he thought it meant. Seduced by a demon, the Priest had turned away from the villagers, from his duties, and from goodness itself. They had to do something about it, or who else might fall victim to the beast? His words quickly came to life in the minds of the villagers, and as a whole, they set off towards the little temple in the woods that very night.

Trivia:
● The Priest's name was Yasunori.
● More things
● he eats humans, okay?
● His real name is Kuzunoha, though he goes by 'Senbei' because it was Yasunori's name for him as a fox. He finds it too amusing to let go.

RP: I RP lit most comfortably, ranging from a few to several paragraphs, depending on what I think the post requires. I never expect anyone to "match" a post — RPing is supposed to be fun, and feel natural! There's no sense in trying to force it to be longer or shorter than it has to be, or it becomes stressful. These days, I generally RP on Discord. If you're in the group, feel free to ask for my Discord info!

I'm also happy to headcanon, or whatever the kids call "squeeing about our OCs" these days.