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 Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 12:09 pm
I've never done anything like this before, so please be gentle. We're going on a trip to the Highlands... Quote: Cusithhttp://www.pantheon.org/articles/c/cusith.htmlCusithby Micha F. LindemansAn enormous hound of the Scottish Highlands. It is said to be a dark green in color, with a long braided tail and the size of a bullock. Whenever his baying was heard on the moors, farmers would quickly lock up their women because the hound's mission was to round up women and drive them to a fairy mound so they might supply milk for fairy children.
... you not dogpile on me if I make a mistake.
... you not get on my case if I do something that seems similar, I assure you it was unintentional. I'm not out to steal anything.
... you treat me as I will most undoubtedly treat you.
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Posted: Sun Dec 03, 2006 1:02 pm
Name: Cunningham ("Village of the milk pail")
Alias(es): the Hound
Sex: Male
Sexuality: Bisexual
Occupation (Once an adult): Farmer (Auch, crivens! Stay a-wee from mah sheep, ye scunner!)
Personality: Boisterous, raucous, but good natured. The "Hound" is rarely the leader in any situation, more content to receive orders and follow them with somewhat overpowering enthusiasm. Cunningham, despite his sleek and rugged appearance, has the manners of a dog at the dinner table. It pains him to have to wait to eat, it makes him weep to be denied first taste at a fresh pie or stew. He drinks like a brewery and yet it's hard to tell whether he's really intoxicated or just being rowdy again.
Despite his lack of social graces, given the hunt he has the total precision of the hunter he is. Hound lives for a task, anything no matter how trivial in his mind turns into a grand adventure. So suddenly a trip to deliver a letter or find someone to pass the message along transforms in his mind as though the fate of the world depended on his success.
To his friends he is loyal, and wears his feelings on his... tail. Like most creatures of the canine persuasion, if Cunningham is happy, sad, or frightened he'll wear it on his tail. Nothing of his emotions are hidden, if he won't vocalise it the tail will betray him. Do NOT entrust a secret to the Hound, it only takes a tankard to loosen his mouth... and his brain.
As far as romance is concerned Cunningham has no preferences, sex is entertainment and not something that binds a relationship for him. For the time being, he just revels in his newfound freedoms. Will it change in the future? It's not a likely possibility.
Abilities/"Powers": Cunningham will have the ability of Hound's Bay. To call out long distances unassisted and with his own voice and lungs alone. As a minion of the Faeries, he would gather up women as wetnurses for Faery children. A strange job, but a job he at once took great joy and pride in when accomplished.
The Chase is first and foremost in his mind, even in his dream he is persuing. In his original form it was his sole task to hunt, though his quarry was neither harmed or killed and more often than not returned with a very, very strange story to tell while her child went hungry from time to time. It was as though the Sidhe took a shepherd's dog and bent even its very shape and purpose to their will when Cusith came to be.
Milk Maid.... just kidding. 8B
Weaknesses: Cunningham falls victim to booze and is paid off easily - so long as you pay up front or soon after. He remembers a fee left unpaid and often will not repeat the same mistake again, because of this he holds grudges for a long time.
He's not the sharpest knife on the butcher's rack. The Hound is slow to grasp concepts in depth or strung up with complicated details. Long detailed stories and conversations are lost to him, he's the last person you'd want to call for a serious discussion or debate.
Cunningham will defend a friend - even if they are wrong or have misconceptions. This young man has "mob mentality" written all over him. If there was an angry crowd calling up for more pitchforks, torches, tar and feathers, no doubt Cunningham would be sharpening the points of his own pitchfork to join them.
The dog in him prevails always. Easily swayed by food, he thinks with his stomach. He's tactless but honest, which makes him seem rude even when he's not trying to be. He practically resists the urge to go after a thrown stick.
Appearance: It would seem natural that most men of the Highlands have a rugged appearance, but the unusual Cunningham has a sleek, lithe form and a shaggy head of earthen green hair. Even his body hair, upon maturity, is green. Eyelashes, brows, arms and legs.
He'd posess the trademarks of a dog. Expressionate eyes, tall attentive dog's ears, and the strange braided dog's tail that defined the Cusith. It would almost look like it was soft green rope that made up his tail save for the beads and cords that bound it.
Hobbies: It'd be stereotypical to say he was a hunstman. He doesn't much care for hunting animal quarry, oddly enough. So naturally, he took to sports and games.
As a child he loved the simple game of tag. As he matured, he found he loved games like soccer and American football.
Education: Of course, as a hound reading, writing, and arithmatic wasn't even an option for him. Even as he was taught to read and write, it didn't interest him much. He essentially learned to read and write because he had to, don't ask him to do math because his simple calculations are atrocious. He's of the type who'd prefer a comic book over a trilogy.
Stranger still, is he can somehow manage to weave a good tale. The things told to him by word of mouth are the things he remembers first and foremost. Stories, jokes, songs, and strands of gossip interest him far more than anything written. The social interaction involved with telling tales before an audience appeals to him. He has a wretch of a memory, but he selectively can remember a good tale.
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Posted: Tue Dec 05, 2006 11:05 am
The Milesians took revenge upon the inhabitants of Ireland, driving the Sidhe to the Otherworld. Tuatha Dé Danann was to become no more upon the day that the three kings killed Galamh. They invaded the land and worked to drive out or destroy its inhabitants in their anger.
The Faeries were angry and fearful of their weapons and above all else, their cruel iron. The conflict of the Fae and manmade iron has long since been known. The belief of the horseshoe upon the door for good luck was made of iron to keep mischeivious Faeries at bay. Though, too, some left offerings of milk at the door to keep them pleased. Changelings and stolen children ensured Faerie blood stayed strong without having to touch the wicked iron. Now with so many years between the past and the present, the Faerie are all but a legend. Whispers of them remain in this world of machine and metal.
What killed the minions of the Sidhe? The same that was their necessity and their bane - the iron of Humankind. To hold a Faerie in iron is a fate worse than death. Fissures and wounds so deep that they literally cut to their spirtual essence. Wounds that never heal and burn so mercilessly that there is nothing that can ease the pain. All the creatures the Sidhe had used to do their bidding were now being hunted and destroyed utterfly by iron instead of driven to the Otherworld for fear that they might someday return from the portals brought out in early twilight and dusk when the night and the day passed one single touch before going their seperate ways.
Cusith's Return
It was unfair to judge the minions of the Sidhe for their association. They were not all cruel or unjust. In Cusith, he did as he was told. He knew no other purpose and his thrill was in the chase, never the kill. The Faery hound was never once known to kill or harm the wetnurses that he was sent after. He knew not why the Faeries wanted them, he knew not why a human's milk was so important to his masters and mistresses, he obeyed with total loyalty as a "good dog" was intended to do.
Cusith didn't speak save for his baying. He had no thoughts of the future, no dreams to aspire to reach, and certainly no hopes or fears. He was what he was and his canine mind never permitted him to think otherwise. "Good dog" was the praise that drove him, "go chase" was the command that made him happy.
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Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2006 6:09 am
Erm.... I don't know what else to add. D: I guess I'll root around and look for ideas.
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Posted: Tue Dec 12, 2006 6:19 am
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