The Old Raven

[Kae]

NAME:
She goes by many names, and may choose to introduce herself as one or another depending on her mood. She will respond to the generic "Raven," as addressed to her by another species, and "Gran," as she is known among the younger ravens. Other names include Quill (according to some humans), Fable (to those she has traded stories with), Elder (to those more respectful), and even "Trickster" depending on who is talking to her. If she dislikes something she is called, she will simply ignore it, or come up with a worse name to push back at the offender. (Other names may develop over the course of roleplay)

SPECIES: Northern Raven
Ravens are scavengers, albeit large and intelligent ones. They are twice the size of a crow and have a larger, curved, slightly hooked beak. Omnivores, they will devour fruit, grain, and flesh alike. They are also superb fliers, as graceful and acrobatic as a hawk, and quite playful and curious--they can do somersaults and even fly briefly upside down. They are known to drop sticks and stones and other objects from the air, both as toys and as weapons. They are capable of hunting on their own, usually after eggs, insects, and small rodents/lizards/amphibians, and are not above cooperating with another species such as wolves to locate larger prey, which they then take a share of when the wolves have finished. Ravens have no natural predators of their own.



AGE: 26 years
She is old for a "wild" raven, but still very healthy, having survived off of her wisdom, carefulness, luck, and intelligence for so long. She can expect another decade or more of good health, provided she is able to survive all that the world may throw at her.

APPEARANCE:
For a bird, this old raven can be quite intimidating, with a 4-ft wingspan and cloaked in black. She prides herself on the blue-violet, iridescent sheen to her feathers, and can often be found examining her own feathers in the sun. Her heavy beak is slightly curved , and her tail feathers form the classic raven wedge shape, as distinct from the lesser crow's smaller size, pointed beak, and fan-shaped tail (this can be used to identify a flying raven from a crow, even beyond their greater acrobatics and ability to actually soar).

ABILITIES:
With the natural intelligence of her species also comes the wisdom and experience of age. Ravens are also known for their ability to mimic sounds; given the wide range of creatures inhabiting the valley, she has picked up quite an array of vocalizations and sound effects, and is not above using them to call to, intimidate, or manipulate the other creatures in the valley. She has mastered a great variety of aerial maneuvers over the years, and uses them to great effect when smaller birds try to drive her off; she also has a relatively good aim with a dropped stone from the air, even being able to account for movement and wind.

PERSONALITY:
Proud and sly, if a bit nosy about others' business. Sometimes she may simply listen from the trees, while other times she may flap down to a low branch and invite herself into a conversation, acting as though there should be no question that she was invited to join in. Of course, she also keeps out of reach of the claws and jaws of any creature that could kill her, no matter how trustworthy they may seem: younger ravens may be so bold as to nip at a wolf's tail, but this one stays well clear.

She is something of a secret-keeper, preferring to collect information like shiny baubles for herself. She does have a great love of shiny and colorful things, and has been known to give tips in trade for objects she'd like to have: she is prideful, however, and while never giving false information, she has been known to give only half of a story and leave out important parts in scorn, or to protect others who have been kindly to her.

Aside from tips and information, she can easily be bribed into telling a grand story. She will embellish to add dramatic flare and fill in gaps, and the story may change slightly from telling to telling due to that, but the base story will always remain the same. Some stories are history of the valley, while others are folk tales and lore from beyond her own hatching.


HISTORY:
She has lived in this valley all her life. She had a mate who was killed in the forest fire, but had many successful broods with him before the fire and as a result, is generally referred to as "Gran" or "Elder" by the other ravens in the valley, whether directly descended from her or not. She has outlived many of her own brood, but doesn't seem to regret it or dwell on it: if she dwells on any death, it would be the death of her mate.

No longer with a mate, she has turned away all other suitors since the fire, preferring instead to roam the valley alone and scavenge off of the larger predators' kills. She has easy access to the human village and a wide network of information sources, and prides herself on generally knowing everything that is happening in the valley.

In the past, she has bartered information with the Shadow Hive pack, her knowledge from the air and of human activity proving useful to them. She also sent one particularly offensive beta to his death many years ago (possibly a decade or more), after he had pinned her and threatened her life for information: she then told him the wolf he sought was in a cave, last she'd seen him; leaving out that she'd revisited the cave since then and found it occupied by a denning mother grizzly bear and her 3 nearly-grown cubs.

Ultimately, she has learned that sharing her information is a powerful tool to getting what she wants: food, respect, and new shiny things to add to her hidden cache, nested high in the rock face over the hills. She rarely gives information freely, expecting at least some amount of payment in return, even if it's remnants of a meal.

[Kae]

((Fleshing out character with a bit of story-telling...I think it may fit well into the valley's backstory, Tris?))

A Raven Red Riding Hood

The nest near which she perched was rimmed in black down and moss, but that was barely visible around the seven pudgy chicks crowded within the branches. "Gran! Gran!" they chirped. "Story Gran! Story?"

The old raven chuckled at the hatchlings' eagerness, and addressed the father who knelt at the nest's edge. "A thirst for knowledge and wisdom, I am hearing? This brood may do you proud."

The male raven, far younger than she, inclined his long, curved beak in respect. "Your lore teaches what could otherwise lead to death, if one waited but on experience," he intoned.

The old raven chuckled again, preening her sleek feathers before settling back into a story. "You know of wolves, hatchlings?"

"Yes, Gran, yes!" they chirped, all but climbing over one another. The largest fluttered wildly and pecked another on the head, fighting for the right to be the one to recite. The others leaned away, allowing the boisterous one to speak for them. "Wolves are ground-runners, large and fast/They bring down prey, rip them open for repast/A raven must remember: the wolves eat first; birds last."

The old raven clapped her wings, the long feathers striking together in a swift motion without even leaving her perch on the branch. "An excellent verse to remember, Youngling. A wolf and its pack can be a sure ticket to a meal, but always beware that those teeth that open your lunch could just as easily be turned to your own skin."

Here she paused, letting her gaze slide over the landscape of the valley, and then she began. "There was once a wolf who sought a raven's help. 'Here, Raven, look what I have found,' he called out. And sure enough, he had found a bracelet of beads, human-made, and even washed them of the blood in the stream so that they sparkled in the sun."

"He killed a human for the beads," one of the chicks half-whispered, and another bat a wing at the first and rolled his eyes at what was, to him, a dumb remark stating the obvious. The old raven merely nodded slightly in confirmation and continued with her story.

"The raven swept down to a lower branch to inspect the wolf's find, and did indeed covet the prize. Knowing that rare was the wolf who would keep such things, the raven did ask, 'What a fine thing! And what could this humble Raven do if, perchance, the Mighty Wolf wish to trade?'

"The wolf let the bracelet dangle from his teeth as he spoke, 'Your aid, Lady Raven, for I seek to find a Trespasser! Your sharp eyes and strong wings could surely find the Mongrel Filth who have stolen into my pack's lands.' The raven cocked her head in curiosity, and did say, 'Specifics may aid in your Quest, Lord Wolf, for my avian eyes may not see Royalty from Whelps, among the canid kind.'

"The wolf trotted slowly closer to the branch, bringing the bauble closer to the raven's perch; it shone in the sun like a string of stars. 'Strange wolves to this land, Winged One, who entered from Far South. Last my pack tracked them to the Rolling Hills, and there lost them, after the troublemakers did injure my Dear Son.' The raven did flutter her wings at this news, for she had not heard of it yet; 'Your pup, injured?' she asked, and the wolf nodded gravely. But the raven was wise, and knew the year to be growing late, and so said 'Surely your pup could stand its own ground, being full grown by now?'

"The wolf was caught in its attempt to sway judgment, and its triangle ears did flatten back briefly, but after a pause, the wolf stepped again closer with the bracelet, 'A fight most unfair, given the Trespass upon our land and the Poaching of our prey,' he now said. 'They must be driven away, and quickly; surely you know of where they have gone, with your eyes so keen in the Sky?'

"The raven looked again at the bauble, weighing options, for it had indeed seen these strange wolves in the valley before. Who could not have noticed? Loud calls bringing together a band of strangers, fights amongst the resident pack and these new arrivals, and all the prey creatures growing skittish with the territorial howls ringing in the woods? But the wolf was growing impatient as the raven mulled this over, and he said 'I do not offer just any trinket for your aid, Wise Raven; come and look more closely. For within these jewels lies the fire tamed by humans, itself! I had to douse them in the river just to cool them. Come closer, you must see!'

"The raven was startled by so strange a thing, that the raven fluttered down from the branch and did go closer to the wolf, who held the human beads within his teeth. 'Ah ha!' cried the wolf, and he leapt with great speed upon the raven!"

The old raven paused here dramatically, flaring her wings out in emphasis, the expansive tips brushing through the leaves of a nearby branch. The chicks squawked and chittered, and their father chuckled.

"The raven was pinned beneath the wolf's heavy feet, the very bauble she sought now pressing into the feathers of her breast, along with the wolf's sharp teeth. Teeth that were used to rip through hide and crush through bone! And from around his deadly grip, the wolf now snarled..." and the story teller lowered her voice into the ominous, gutteral tones of a wolf, " 'Tell me where the mangy filth is, bird, or I'll be feeding your heart to my alpha!' "

It looked like one of the chicks fainted. It was an act, of course; after bit of rustling, her head popped back up amongst nervous giggles.

"Now the raven knew the wolf would track down the strangers with her help or not, and whether the bracelet was ever traded became a moot point next to preserving her own life. So the raven squawked angrily, 'I would of course tell you, Cruel Wolf, who talks so Sweetly when I am in the tree! I can divulge the location of one now, in fact, last as I had seen the Creature wander; if you but let me up now, I can share it, and then seek out others in trade for your Prize.' The wolf's hot breath stunk over the raven's feathers as he considered, and at last he growled, 'Tell me the location of the One, first, and then I shall let you go to find the others.'

"The raven knew a wolf could track by scent, and so told him the honest truth, 'One did go to the shallow den by the Ancient Hickory, the one gnarled and dieing at its crown, where the Great Horned Owl does sleep. You may find your Stranger there. The others are more dispersed, but I can find them quickly, should my Wing be uninjured,' the raven said darkly. The wolf relented and relinquished his grasp, letting the raven beat rapidly back up into the tree; the bracelet remained in his jaws, locked around his sharp back teeth. 'Seek out the others, then,' the wolf now ordered, 'Return here regularly to report. When they have all been found and killed, you can have your human trash,' and the wolf now bounded away.

"The raven preened, smoothing out feathers in the fading sunlight, noting quite happily that the wolf had not taken the whole pack to take down what he thought to be one weak and alone Stranger-Wolf cornered in a shallow cave. As the sun began to spin towards the horizon, the raven took wing and flew to that cave, alighting on the safe branches of the Ancient Hickory to see what had come of the Cruel Wolf.

"In the fading light of dusk, the wolf's carcass lay, split open by claws longer than flight feathers. Just within his gaping jaw still sat the bracelet, dull now with the wolf's blood. The raven checked to be sure no one else was in sight. She then flitted down quickly, snatching up both bracelet and meat, savoring greatly her meal for all the trouble this wolf had given."

The old raven swept back in a grand bow, her story winding towards its end. "Had that Wolf not so threatened the Raven, it may have lived its full life; but also, had the Raven not thought so quickly, it may have been dead, itself, that day." The old raven paused here, watching the faces of the chicks as they mulled over the story thus far.

After a moment, one chick asked the question the old storyteller was waiting for, "Did the Stranger-Wolf kill the Cruel One, Gran?"

The storyteller gave a sharp, gleeful laugh. "Oh no," she said, "That is the best part: for the Cruel Wolf had threatened her life and harmed her pride, the Raven chose to tell a half-truth. Indeed, the Stranger had denned there one night recently, but just that morning, the Raven had seen a great Grizzly napping at that cave, three Bumbling Cubs rolling about her. A lone wolf is no match for a bear, let alone one so fierce as a mother protecting her cubs."

The chicks sighed appreciatively at the Raven's honest trick. The old raven preened her feathers again, the iridescence still shining bright blues and purples in spite of her age.

"The bracelet," another asked, "Did it really contain Human Fire and Stars?"

The old storyteller chuckled and winked, "Perhaps it did, perhaps not. If it were truly of fire, though, how could a raven keep it without her nest burning to cinders?"

The chicks pondered. "A secret stream nest!" one finally suggested. "With a waterfall!"

The chick's father chuckled at his daughter's creativity. "That would be a sight to see."

"Remember my story well, Younglings," the old Raven now said, returning her gaze to the valley, "and I bid you good day."

"Gran, Gran! Another story?"

The old raven chuckled, "Perhaps another time," she said, and she spread her great wings and swept out from the tree, catching a warm air current to lift up under her wings, letting her soar over the valley.

[MissTris]

*appreciative* Ahhhh, so very full and elegant. I enjoyed that story very much myself, and yes it does fit. It also shows why Shadow Hive is more hateful and distrusting then merely annoyed with the younger Cross Roads. A flash of it. Since the smell of a strange wolf would mingle with Bear.

I look forward to hearing another raven tale :3
I do love birds much so, but don't play them well myself, I think.

[Kae]

I can't roleplay the bird's personality in a live RP; she takes time and thought for me to scrawl across paper. But... she is oh so much fun!

That particular story is something of a Raven Red Riding Hood. I'll have to come up with some others

• 3 Billy Goats Gruff, deer and a mountain lion
  

[Kae]

A Gingerbread Mouse
((She may wish to recount this tale to Caprus ))

There was a little mouse blessed with the gift of great speed. Neither strike of snake nor pounce of fox could catch this little mouse, as he would see them coming and zip away, a scurry of leaves fluttering in his wake. As his escapes mounted, he grew bold, proud of his amazing speed.

One day, after evading a bobcat, he stood upon the rocks above it and did decide to taunt the Short-Tail Cat, for his speed had never let him down. "Cat, you must be weak with hunger, for one so small as me to escape!" the mouse did squeak. "Yet you look to be in your prime; what a failure you must be to cats everywhere!"

The Short-Tail hissed and spat with rage, her whiskers quivering. Where previously she may have padded off to locate easier prey, she scorned this Mouse who would speak so boldly. She bunched her herself up and sprang up after the Mouse, missing yet again, but refusing to give up. They bounded across the rocks of the hills, the Mouse leading her on a merry chase.

An eagle now soared overhead, and saw the Mouse evading the bobcat on the rocks below. As the Mouse danced so brazenly in the open, the eagle could not resist swooping down for such an easy meal. At the last moment, the Mouse saw the bird's great shadow, and bounded down from the rocks into the grass with a wild squeak. "Ha!" said the mouse, as both eagle and cat followed him into the wildflowers. "You are both too slow, and can never catch one so fast as me. A failure among cats, and a failure among eagles everywhere!"

A wolf was now watching them as they tried to flush the Mouse from the grasses, and decided to lay in wait as the tiny Mouse drew closer and closer. Using her great hearing, she waited as the rustling came before her, and then pounced fully upon the spot with both paws. Alas, the mouse shot out, skimming over the grass and flowers and squeaking with glee as the shocked wolf now joined the chase. "Cats and eagles and now a wolf! Too slow, too slow, failures among predators everywhere!" and he now darted into the woods, all three angry and on the mouse's tiny heels.

A bear was within the forest, pawing through the berry-brush, picking at sweet raspberries in contentment. Seeing an opportunity to taunt yet another who would snack upon a mouse such as he, the Mouse ran directly under him, nipping at the bear's tail as he went. The bear roared in rage and swung a heavy paw after the mouse, who again shot away, the other three tearing through the berry-brush on his trail. "A slow bear, as well! No one can catch me; the predators must be coming down with disease!"

The bear, who would otherwise have been content to leave the mouse be, was enraged by the Mouse's taunts and nips and joined the chase, barreling through the forest along with the others. Soon, the woods cleared to the rocky riverbeds, and the Mouse scampered over them, up and over and around the smooth-worn rocks. The river was swollen with the summer rains, and far too deep for the Mouse to cross; it also meandered and crawled over the landscape, and up ahead, the Mouse could see it switched back, forming a sharp u-bend that trapped the Mouse, the angry predators still swarming through the depths of the forest at his back. As his death was imminent, he skidded to a halt, looking around frantically for a hole to duck into for cover.

A Fox sat upon a large rock across the river's foaming water, washing her paws. "Ho there, Mouse," the Fox said. "What causes you such hurry?"

The Mouse continued to search the riverbed for safe passage. "There is Bobcat and Bear on my trail," he said, hoping to scare the fox away, "and Wolf and Eagle. I must cross this river or they shall soon come and eat me!"

"Oh, that is a predicament," said the Fox, who stood from washing herself. "I believe I see an Eagle coming through the trees now, in the distance. Though, I would rather not see my competition get a meal. Would you like me to ferry you across, to saftey?" and the fox swam across the river easily to the Mouse's shore, paddling through the current with her little paws.

Seeing the Fox cross onto his shore, the Mouse scurried about quickly, running circles over the rocks of the riverbed. "How am I to believe you will not eat me, too?" he cried, dancing among the rocks too quick for the fox to pounce.

"I have just eaten upon rabbit," the fox said simply, stepping from the river and shaking out her fur nonchalantly. "Here, I will let you ride on my tail, if you do not trust me... but you must hurry, as I don't intend to wait here for the others to arrive."

Seeing no other option, the mouse hopped upon the Fox's red tail, clinging to the damp fur. The Fox trudged back into the creek as the rustling of the distant underbrush grew louder with the approaching predators.

Now within the river, the raging water was washing over the Fox's tail, and the Mouse sputtered and struggled to hold on, climbing up to the Fox's back for safety. "Watch it, there, I almost drowned!" the Mouse exclaimed.

"I am sorry," the Fox replied, straining to keep her head above water. "It has grown deep, and the water is swift."

Moments after she spoke, her back, too, began to sink under the water, and the Mouse was forced to climb up to the Fox's neck for lest he be swept away by the white water. "You're sinking deeper! I surely cannot weigh so much?" the Mouse demanded, ears drenched and sodden against his head.

"I am sorry," the Fox again replied. "But I am swimming faster, because I hear the others coming!"

The Mouse looked back, and sure enough, saw Wolf and Bobcat burst through the underbrush and spy the Fox. No sooner than they had made eye contact with the Mouse and set up both howl and growl, than the Mouse was dunked further under water as the waves washed again over the Fox.

"Climb to my nose, little mouse!" the Fox exclaimed as they burst in and out of the rapids. "I shall keep that afloat, at least!"

Clambering up the Fox's head and face, the Mouse reached for air, clinging to the tip of the Fox's nose. He gasped for air, soaked and trembling, tiny claws hanging dearly to the Fox's water-beaded whiskers.

Then with a sudden, smooth motion, the Fox stood up upon her paws, clearing herself of the swirling water with ease as she had been but crouching in the shallows. With a snap, the Fox flipped the trembling Mouse into her mouth, and he was gone.

She turned with a smile to the other four predators, as they stared at her from across the river. "He may be fast, but he was not smart," the fox now said, and then she shook the water from her fur and trotted off into the forest.