Mousling Rogue Lv. 5 Warlock Lv. 2
Standing at a grand 2’ 5" Whiskers has easily been overlooked by a distracted onlooker. All the better feels the mouse when adorned by a dark purple cape. Brown fur as with his family, though his long white whiskers stand out apart from his appearance.
Raystealer of SwumHallow, Whiskers of the West, the Second Chief of his Burrow. It is said that spring in SwumHallow was once filled with the rays of sunlight. Yet ever since his first memories of spring Raystealer of SwumHallow can’t remember a single spring day that wasn’t shadowed under a curtain of clouds. As he grew so did his whiskers, longer than his older brothers. Each morning for his is filled with time spent, grooming his whiskers to a gleaming white, often spending more time on his whiskers than the rest of his grooming.
Soon came his nickname of Whiskers. If one thing was re-callable about the mousling it was the gleaming whiskers that would been seen. His brothers would give him the nickname that would become one he would proudly (and vainly) bare. From a young age, he found a friend is his younger sister Heather. Often caring for her when she was young, she was said to be his shadow from the time she could walk. Both a brother and a teacher, he forged a deep care his younger sister, hoping she’d grow stronger than even he could imagine. He hoped she would gain a strong position in the family business.
While Whiskers would have eyes on both fame and prestige, his older brothers had eyes on something different. Both of his brothers yearned to live in another land, one that would allow their skills to flourish and coin be made. So the mantle of chief to be fell onto the middle child. Trained to be as sharp with his tongue as with his blades. It wasn’t a surprise when the opportunity for travel arose and his brothers gladly took it.