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Description

O F F I C I A L A P P L I C A T I O N F O R

I D E N T I T Y

B A S I C
Full Name: Fennel Owens

Nicknames: Fenn

Alias(es):None

Gender: Female

Current Age: 3 years + 2 months

Birthday: November 21st

SubBreed: Vaenn

Breed: Maine coon & Burmilla mix

W O R L D
Battle Class: Warrior

Occupation: Drifter
Future occupation - Baker

Former Occupations: Gwellian Baker

Marital Status: Unmarried

T E C H N I C A L

S T A T S
Current Level: 003

Equipped Skills: No equipped skills

Strength: ...06

Stealth: ...00

Endurance: ...03

Agility: ...00

Tactical Skill: ...00

Healing Arts: ...02

Dark Magic: ...00

E Q U I P M E N T
Items in Possession:
+Tattered apron
+Leather strips
+Wyvern tooth necklace

Weapons: Chipped broadsword

Q U I C K - L I N K S
.....Schilling Tracker

.....Level Chart

.....Relationship Chart

D E S C R I P T I V E

P E R S O N A L I T Y
{ Amiable | Generous }
Despite everything, Fennel has remained kindhearted and is always willing to lend a helping paw wherever needed. She has a generally friendly manner and will work to cheer others up as best she can. This is often done in the way of giving what she can to those in need. Bread that is a few days old and not fit to sell - but still fit to eat - will always go to beggars as opposed to the trash. She always gives what she can, though nowadays there isn't much.

{ Diligent | Persevering }
Fennel has been known to stay up until the waking hours of dawn if it means she can finish what she started. Putting all she can into work is one of her personal values; a halfheartedly completed job is not a job well done. Fennel will continue in the face of difficulty, and even if things look bleak she will persevere and hope for the best possible outcome.

{ Sentimental }
These days, Fennel has become sentimental for her home. It can be distracting at times, and discouraging; however, often memories of home and friends are what keep her going. It is for them that she has decided to make the most of her new life, not just for herself. It is important to her to remember who she is besides a cat in a new land.

{ Guarded }
After the disaster, Fennel has grown a bit guarded in nature; she no longer trusts strangers as readily as before. She worries that Avens Warren could be subject to the same thing her kingdom was put through, and this puts her on the watch and in general makes her a bit nervous. Magic has never been her strong suit and in general it unnerves her; she would rather settle something with fists or swords as opposed to magic duels.

{ Stubborn }
As a mule, that is. Fennel has a deep sense of pride and will not back down from her beliefs, nor her arguments, even when they have been disproven. She is very reluctant to change her views. This can render her a bit close-minded in some situations.

{ Tactless }
Despite being quite friendly, Fennel tends to be a bit insensitive when it comes to dealing with others, especially in delicate situations. It's not that she means to; it's just that she never had much time to get out and form strong relationships and figure out what was right and wrong when it comes to those sort of things. She's not the most clever of cats.

E X T R A N E O U S
Build: Broader shoulders, well-muscled. About the size of an average Vaenn tom.
Scars/Disabilities: Burn scars on left forearm (bound with leather strips). Nicks and scars on legs. Torn ear.

Physical Health 80%
The journey across the waters did not treat Fennel the best, and being in a new place and under such stress, her physical health is not as good as it usually is.
Emotional Health 75%
What with the destruction of her kingdom, there is some emotional trauma and exhaustion going on at the moment. Fennel is mentally stable otherwise.

Habits:
- Touching her burn arm or crossing her arms, especially when thinking or becoming uncomfortable

Fears:
- Open flames: Fennel is nervous around open flame. The ovens are fine - at least, they aren't enough to make her quit her work - but she tends to take extra care about them. She hates fireplaces, and only puts up with them because they are the only source of warmth in winter months; she uses pokers and long tongs to manage them if possible. Catching her at a bonfire would be quite unlikely.
- Not finding any other survivors in the new land
- Magic (slightly)

Dreams / Goals:
- Someday be a master in her trade
- Make a proper life in Aven's Warren

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Religion: Believes in Grimalkin as a protector/spirit, but otherwise no specific religion - is fairly open minded in this respect

H I S T O R Y

B L O O D - T I E S
Parents:
{ Onion | Mother | Vaenn | Deceased }

{ Cecil | Father | Vaenn | Deceased }

Siblings:
{ Cornmeal | Sister | Vaenn | Unknown }

{ Flax | Brother | Vaenn | Unknown }

{ Thea | Sister | Vaenn | Unknown }

E X T E N D E D
Adopted Family:
{ None | --- | --- | --- }

Romantic Partner:
{ None | --- | --- | --- }

B A C K S T O R Y

The old lady told me to write to pass the time on this boat. She said our stories were important, even more so now that we are all that is left of our kingdom. There may be others. I pray to Grimalkin each morning and eve that there are.

{ Chapter 1: Beginnings }
My name is Fennel Owens.
I was born in the kingdom of Gweillan, and only had one interaction with the human realm that mirrored it. It is clear in my memory, that autumn day, and I was excited, because the next month would bring my birthday. Cecil, my father, stood nearby Flax and I, watching us carefully so as to prevent us from running off. Flax asked if we could go closer, but Da said that if we knew what was good for us, we'd stay far away from it. I never did go back. Flax, on the other hand, spoke of it often. He loved danger. Momma was always confused at how two twins could be so different in this way, but she never had to worry much about him because she ran a tight ship. As soon as we could knead dough, our tiny paws were working alongside our parents'.

Momma was a baker, Da formerly a butcher. Our family owned a bakery in the heart of town... and not much more. We weren't poor – people always needed bread – but I never had more to my name than a hand-me-down apron and a blue-and-silver hoop earring. The earring was my prized possession, but when I was a wee lady, I was stupid enough to wander too close by an alleyway, and some hulking tom grabbed me and tore up my ear for it. Cornmeal was always sorry she let go of my paw that day, but it taught me a lesson, at any rate. Never did fancy jewelry after that.

I grew pretty close to my mother, because I admired her ability to speak her mind. There were no freeloaders in her bakery, and many had the rolling pin welts to prove it. She was the one who taught us to read and write in the evenings, as best she could. Momma was a big-spirited cat in a tiny cat's body, that's for sure. If she had been as big as myself, it very well might have saved her.
{ Chapter 2: Change }
We were all surprised to learn she was pregnant again. At the time, my siblings and I were joyful, even though Cornmeal told us Momma and Da exchanged troubled looks whenever one of us mentioned it. I realized much later that they knew she had a slim chance of making it through another birth. When it came time, the baby survived, but Momma did not. They hadn't decided on a name before she died, so Da decided to name her Thea, which was about the last thing he did for the poor child. For any of us, really. He left her in our care, and proceeded to drink away his grief.
Things started to fall apart after that. Flax became brooding and withdrawn, staying up late and muttering to himself while he scribbled in a book. One night he simply disappeared, leaving no trace, no note. Cornmeal made daily trips out into the city; for a while I believed she was searching for our brother, but a few months later she announced that she was moving out, to marry a soldier. She took Thea along, because I think she felt it would be unfair to leave me with Da and the little one to care for on top of the bakery. It hurt, even though there was reason in it.
{ Chapter 1: Da }
When home, Da was either drunk, angry, or when Grimalkin smiled upon me, asleep. He did nothing in the way of working, and was no better than an infant. I had the whole of the bakery on my shoulders, and without the money to hire a hand, the production was always less than it had been in the days before my mother's death. Money was tight - extraordinarily so, even without Da's constant drinking. There is a piece that fits into my story now that I must truthfully tell, though I am ashamed of it. One night Da came home drunk, and began yelling about how my incompetence was the reason our savings were disappearing - as if he hadn't been drinking himself stupid for months! This enraged me. I slammed his door and marched down to the ovens, even though I had already been working since sunrise. My determination outweighed my exhaustion. I thought my father a fool; I was no better. I worked through the night, but at some point I must have dozed off, for I woke to a searing pain and acrid smell. I had been sitting too close to the embers, and my arm had caught flame. I screamed loud enough to wake the King and plunged it into the dishbasin, which mercifully was still filled with grimy water. I was ashamed, so much so that I didn't go to a healer for it. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyway. I have the burn scars to this day, though I bind them with leather strips, being that I don't want to tell the tale to every curious customer.

Da died not long after that. He apologized to me on his deathbed – seems he felt it was his best time to beg forgiveness – and told me the shop was mine. My responsibility, as it had been for months, but also officially under my ownership. I worked at the bakery for a long while after that. I didn't have time to get out and make acquaintances, but an old childhood friend stumbled into my shop one day and we grew close. Leo. I wonder where he is now... if he is alive... my dear Leo.
Then came the downfall.
{ Chapter 1: Shambles }
Times were good. Careful management of my funds and steady business meant that I had time and freedom enough to join the merry festivals that graced our lovely kingdom. Cats I had never seen before trickled through my shop on occasion, buying bread and pastries and appearing altogether normal. They were anything but. I am told they were what started this all. Our time of peace was but the calm before a storm... and one night, it broke. The earth split. I ran. I tried to find Leo, but the waters came, and I had to leave with the rest before I could find him, or else face death. I gained passage on this boat, where I recognize only the expression of loss that we all share. I am told we seek a place called Avens Warren, in Crelav. I pray they will take us in. It is our last hope. The endless waters scare me a mite. Surrounded by refugees, I still feel utterly alone.
I don't know what our future holds; only that this is my story. They're calling something from the deck.

Land.

I hope we shall find peace.

E X T R A

- Occasionally she will feel 'ghost pains' in her burn arm.
- Her name is such thanks to an old family tradition that holds its origin in her mother's side, which is that the children are named after the bread baked on the day of their birth; ergo the names Fennel, Flax, and Cornmeal. Thea was named by her father, and therefore outside of this tradition.
- Does not drink alcohol. Still goes to taverns occasionally, but will typically just order cider if anything.

O O C

L I T E R A C Y - L E V E L S
Lvl 1: Sure, but only for extremely fast-paced RPs - not preferred

Lvl 2: Yep

Lvl 3: Yep

Lvl 4: Can do, but I prefer the lower ones for common RPs as they move at a quicker pace

R P - M E T H O D S
Skype: I do not have a skype, sorry.

Notes: Definitely

Comments: Sure

Chats: Sure

Forum: Definitely, if we have one

E-Mail: Nope

Google Docs: Nope

A V A I L A B I L I T Y
Time Zone: Central Standard Time (USA)

R P - S A M P L E
{ Isolde Bohon | CragloftUprising }
One wouldn't have thought that Isolde would have had such energy after a fight. Moving through the streets, she couldn't help but give a giddy laugh. The feeling of running mixed with the thrill of having new information to relate pushed her towards the market instead of home, where she knew her swollen eye would only kindle sharp reprimands from her mother.
Slowing, she breathed in the glorious deluge of scents and sounds encompassing her as she entered the throng of cats. This place always dazzled her, no matter how many times she passed through it. With a grin, she wove her way towards the fruit vender's stall. He was the first she wanted to tell of the brawl; the fact that he knew her well enough to slip her an apple on occasions had nothing to do with it, of course. There was another cat there now, one whom she noticed was wearing a strange beak-like mask, but he didn't seem to be speaking to the vender. Sauntering up to the stall, she grinned as the tom behind the table swore and said "Great Solstice, girl, what sort of fight did you get into this time?" Isolde laughed merrily. "That's what I'm here to tell you! Messenger's duty." She winked, then went on. "There was a brawl at the Bell & Knocker. I didn't see who started it, but I swear the entire tavern was in on it once it got going. Some chap was lucky enough to clock me in the eye, but you should've seen him afterwards." She glanced over to the masked tom as the fruit vendor chuckled to himself. "Girl, your mother ain't going to be happy with you."

"Oh, I know," she sighed in mock sadness. "I guess I'll just have to buy her an apple to win back her love." Setting a shard on his table in payment, she picked out a round apple for her mother, and turned to leave. The vendor whistled and tossed her another of the red fruits for herself, and she laughed. "Thanks!"

C R E D I T S
Drawn Application Template © 3lectronicAt
Written Application Template © Hollyseven
RoadToFolkvangr © The RtF Staff Team, explicitly 3lectronicAt
Fennel Owens © Teahorse

Description

O F F I C I A L A P P L I C A T I O N F O R

I D E N T I T Y

B A S I C
Full Name: Fennel Owens

Nicknames: Fenn

Alias(es):None

Gender: Female

Current Age: 3 years + 2 months

Birthday: November 21st

SubBreed: Vaenn

Breed: Maine coon & Burmilla mix

W O R L D
Battle Class: Warrior

Occupation: Drifter
Future occupation - Baker

Former Occupations: Gwellian Baker

Marital Status: Unmarried

T E C H N I C A L

S T A T S
Current Level: 003

Equipped Skills: No equipped skills

Strength: ...06

Stealth: ...00

Endurance: ...03

Agility: ...00

Tactical Skill: ...00

Healing Arts: ...02

Dark Magic: ...00

E Q U I P M E N T
Items in Possession:
+Tattered apron
+Leather strips
+Wyvern tooth necklace

Weapons: Chipped broadsword

Q U I C K - L I N K S
.....Schilling Tracker

.....Level Chart

.....Relationship Chart

D E S C R I P T I V E

P E R S O N A L I T Y
{ Amiable | Generous }
Despite everything, Fennel has remained kindhearted and is always willing to lend a helping paw wherever needed. She has a generally friendly manner and will work to cheer others up as best she can. This is often done in the way of giving what she can to those in need. Bread that is a few days old and not fit to sell - but still fit to eat - will always go to beggars as opposed to the trash. She always gives what she can, though nowadays there isn't much.

{ Diligent | Persevering }
Fennel has been known to stay up until the waking hours of dawn if it means she can finish what she started. Putting all she can into work is one of her personal values; a halfheartedly completed job is not a job well done. Fennel will continue in the face of difficulty, and even if things look bleak she will persevere and hope for the best possible outcome.

{ Sentimental }
These days, Fennel has become sentimental for her home. It can be distracting at times, and discouraging; however, often memories of home and friends are what keep her going. It is for them that she has decided to make the most of her new life, not just for herself. It is important to her to remember who she is besides a cat in a new land.

{ Guarded }
After the disaster, Fennel has grown a bit guarded in nature; she no longer trusts strangers as readily as before. She worries that Avens Warren could be subject to the same thing her kingdom was put through, and this puts her on the watch and in general makes her a bit nervous. Magic has never been her strong suit and in general it unnerves her; she would rather settle something with fists or swords as opposed to magic duels.

{ Stubborn }
As a mule, that is. Fennel has a deep sense of pride and will not back down from her beliefs, nor her arguments, even when they have been disproven. She is very reluctant to change her views. This can render her a bit close-minded in some situations.

{ Tactless }
Despite being quite friendly, Fennel tends to be a bit insensitive when it comes to dealing with others, especially in delicate situations. It's not that she means to; it's just that she never had much time to get out and form strong relationships and figure out what was right and wrong when it comes to those sort of things. She's not the most clever of cats.

E X T R A N E O U S
Build: Broader shoulders, well-muscled. About the size of an average Vaenn tom.
Scars/Disabilities: Burn scars on left forearm (bound with leather strips). Nicks and scars on legs. Torn ear.

Physical Health 80%
The journey across the waters did not treat Fennel the best, and being in a new place and under such stress, her physical health is not as good as it usually is.
Emotional Health 75%
What with the destruction of her kingdom, there is some emotional trauma and exhaustion going on at the moment. Fennel is mentally stable otherwise.

Habits:
- Touching her burn arm or crossing her arms, especially when thinking or becoming uncomfortable

Fears:
- Open flames: Fennel is nervous around open flame. The ovens are fine - at least, they aren't enough to make her quit her work - but she tends to take extra care about them. She hates fireplaces, and only puts up with them because they are the only source of warmth in winter months; she uses pokers and long tongs to manage them if possible. Catching her at a bonfire would be quite unlikely.
- Not finding any other survivors in the new land
- Magic (slightly)

Dreams / Goals:
- Someday be a master in her trade
- Make a proper life in Aven's Warren

Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual

Religion: Believes in Grimalkin as a protector/spirit, but otherwise no specific religion - is fairly open minded in this respect

H I S T O R Y

B L O O D - T I E S
Parents:
{ Onion | Mother | Vaenn | Deceased }

{ Cecil | Father | Vaenn | Deceased }

Siblings:
{ Cornmeal | Sister | Vaenn | Unknown }

{ Flax | Brother | Vaenn | Unknown }

{ Thea | Sister | Vaenn | Unknown }

E X T E N D E D
Adopted Family:
{ None | --- | --- | --- }

Romantic Partner:
{ None | --- | --- | --- }

B A C K S T O R Y

The old lady told me to write to pass the time on this boat. She said our stories were important, even more so now that we are all that is left of our kingdom. There may be others. I pray to Grimalkin each morning and eve that there are.

{ Chapter 1: Beginnings }
My name is Fennel Owens.
I was born in the kingdom of Gweillan, and only had one interaction with the human realm that mirrored it. It is clear in my memory, that autumn day, and I was excited, because the next month would bring my birthday. Cecil, my father, stood nearby Flax and I, watching us carefully so as to prevent us from running off. Flax asked if we could go closer, but Da said that if we knew what was good for us, we'd stay far away from it. I never did go back. Flax, on the other hand, spoke of it often. He loved danger. Momma was always confused at how two twins could be so different in this way, but she never had to worry much about him because she ran a tight ship. As soon as we could knead dough, our tiny paws were working alongside our parents'.

Momma was a baker, Da formerly a butcher. Our family owned a bakery in the heart of town... and not much more. We weren't poor – people always needed bread – but I never had more to my name than a hand-me-down apron and a blue-and-silver hoop earring. The earring was my prized possession, but when I was a wee lady, I was stupid enough to wander too close by an alleyway, and some hulking tom grabbed me and tore up my ear for it. Cornmeal was always sorry she let go of my paw that day, but it taught me a lesson, at any rate. Never did fancy jewelry after that.

I grew pretty close to my mother, because I admired her ability to speak her mind. There were no freeloaders in her bakery, and many had the rolling pin welts to prove it. She was the one who taught us to read and write in the evenings, as best she could. Momma was a big-spirited cat in a tiny cat's body, that's for sure. If she had been as big as myself, it very well might have saved her.
{ Chapter 2: Change }
We were all surprised to learn she was pregnant again. At the time, my siblings and I were joyful, even though Cornmeal told us Momma and Da exchanged troubled looks whenever one of us mentioned it. I realized much later that they knew she had a slim chance of making it through another birth. When it came time, the baby survived, but Momma did not. They hadn't decided on a name before she died, so Da decided to name her Thea, which was about the last thing he did for the poor child. For any of us, really. He left her in our care, and proceeded to drink away his grief.
Things started to fall apart after that. Flax became brooding and withdrawn, staying up late and muttering to himself while he scribbled in a book. One night he simply disappeared, leaving no trace, no note. Cornmeal made daily trips out into the city; for a while I believed she was searching for our brother, but a few months later she announced that she was moving out, to marry a soldier. She took Thea along, because I think she felt it would be unfair to leave me with Da and the little one to care for on top of the bakery. It hurt, even though there was reason in it.
{ Chapter 1: Da }
When home, Da was either drunk, angry, or when Grimalkin smiled upon me, asleep. He did nothing in the way of working, and was no better than an infant. I had the whole of the bakery on my shoulders, and without the money to hire a hand, the production was always less than it had been in the days before my mother's death. Money was tight - extraordinarily so, even without Da's constant drinking. There is a piece that fits into my story now that I must truthfully tell, though I am ashamed of it. One night Da came home drunk, and began yelling about how my incompetence was the reason our savings were disappearing - as if he hadn't been drinking himself stupid for months! This enraged me. I slammed his door and marched down to the ovens, even though I had already been working since sunrise. My determination outweighed my exhaustion. I thought my father a fool; I was no better. I worked through the night, but at some point I must have dozed off, for I woke to a searing pain and acrid smell. I had been sitting too close to the embers, and my arm had caught flame. I screamed loud enough to wake the King and plunged it into the dishbasin, which mercifully was still filled with grimy water. I was ashamed, so much so that I didn't go to a healer for it. It wouldn't have made a difference, anyway. I have the burn scars to this day, though I bind them with leather strips, being that I don't want to tell the tale to every curious customer.

Da died not long after that. He apologized to me on his deathbed – seems he felt it was his best time to beg forgiveness – and told me the shop was mine. My responsibility, as it had been for months, but also officially under my ownership. I worked at the bakery for a long while after that. I didn't have time to get out and make acquaintances, but an old childhood friend stumbled into my shop one day and we grew close. Leo. I wonder where he is now... if he is alive... my dear Leo.
Then came the downfall.
{ Chapter 1: Shambles }
Times were good. Careful management of my funds and steady business meant that I had time and freedom enough to join the merry festivals that graced our lovely kingdom. Cats I had never seen before trickled through my shop on occasion, buying bread and pastries and appearing altogether normal. They were anything but. I am told they were what started this all. Our time of peace was but the calm before a storm... and one night, it broke. The earth split. I ran. I tried to find Leo, but the waters came, and I had to leave with the rest before I could find him, or else face death. I gained passage on this boat, where I recognize only the expression of loss that we all share. I am told we seek a place called Avens Warren, in Crelav. I pray they will take us in. It is our last hope. The endless waters scare me a mite. Surrounded by refugees, I still feel utterly alone.
I don't know what our future holds; only that this is my story. They're calling something from the deck.

Land.

I hope we shall find peace.

E X T R A

- Occasionally she will feel 'ghost pains' in her burn arm.
- Her name is such thanks to an old family tradition that holds its origin in her mother's side, which is that the children are named after the bread baked on the day of their birth; ergo the names Fennel, Flax, and Cornmeal. Thea was named by her father, and therefore outside of this tradition.
- Does not drink alcohol. Still goes to taverns occasionally, but will typically just order cider if anything.

O O C

L I T E R A C Y - L E V E L S
Lvl 1: Sure, but only for extremely fast-paced RPs - not preferred

Lvl 2: Yep

Lvl 3: Yep

Lvl 4: Can do, but I prefer the lower ones for common RPs as they move at a quicker pace

R P - M E T H O D S
Skype: I do not have a skype, sorry.

Notes: Definitely

Comments: Sure

Chats: Sure

Forum: Definitely, if we have one

E-Mail: Nope

Google Docs: Nope

A V A I L A B I L I T Y
Time Zone: Central Standard Time (USA)

R P - S A M P L E
{ Isolde Bohon | CragloftUprising }
One wouldn't have thought that Isolde would have had such energy after a fight. Moving through the streets, she couldn't help but give a giddy laugh. The feeling of running mixed with the thrill of having new information to relate pushed her towards the market instead of home, where she knew her swollen eye would only kindle sharp reprimands from her mother.
Slowing, she breathed in the glorious deluge of scents and sounds encompassing her as she entered the throng of cats. This place always dazzled her, no matter how many times she passed through it. With a grin, she wove her way towards the fruit vender's stall. He was the first she wanted to tell of the brawl; the fact that he knew her well enough to slip her an apple on occasions had nothing to do with it, of course. There was another cat there now, one whom she noticed was wearing a strange beak-like mask, but he didn't seem to be speaking to the vender. Sauntering up to the stall, she grinned as the tom behind the table swore and said "Great Solstice, girl, what sort of fight did you get into this time?" Isolde laughed merrily. "That's what I'm here to tell you! Messenger's duty." She winked, then went on. "There was a brawl at the Bell & Knocker. I didn't see who started it, but I swear the entire tavern was in on it once it got going. Some chap was lucky enough to clock me in the eye, but you should've seen him afterwards." She glanced over to the masked tom as the fruit vendor chuckled to himself. "Girl, your mother ain't going to be happy with you."

"Oh, I know," she sighed in mock sadness. "I guess I'll just have to buy her an apple to win back her love." Setting a shard on his table in payment, she picked out a round apple for her mother, and turned to leave. The vendor whistled and tossed her another of the red fruits for herself, and she laughed. "Thanks!"

C R E D I T S
Drawn Application Template © 3lectronicAt
Written Application Template © Hollyseven
RoadToFolkvangr © The RtF Staff Team, explicitly 3lectronicAt
Fennel Owens © Teahorse