(Art by gomalemo, this is a TEMPORARY reference while I draw my own. I do not claim ownership of the art nor character depicted and it is only being used as a placeholder concept)
Kylian Artturi
Details
Full Name: Kylian Artturi
Race: Rathor - Beastalt
Sex: Male
Age: ~14
Height: 6ft
Weight: 100lbs
Birthdate: 14th of First Bloom
Birthplace: Undocumented, somewhere in the wilds between Radenor and Daravin
Profession: Unemployed || Scout/thief
Housing: N/A - Formerly with a caravan
Partners: None
Titles: None
Factions: None
Fluencies: Sign Language, Vithmi
Conversationals: Common
Ineptitudes: None
Appearance
A lanky, toned Beastalt with the appearance of a secretary bird. His neck, like his heritage animal, is slightly elongated, plumed with smooth feathers interrupted only by a crest of wild, silky black semiplume feathers along the back of his head. His eyes are a deep forest green that, out of direct lighting, looks near black, and are crowned by naturally long lashes. His eyes are offset by a natural orange and yellow mask marking that flows to an off-white beak. His arms and torso are average for his kind, if not on the thin side, yet house strong muscles to use his arms in supporting his weight more easily when gliding. His arms are lined with long coverts, primary and secondary feathers no different than a wing. This wing-like structure ends just past his wrist with some flexibility to be drawn back out of the way as not to impede functionality of his hands. While this hybridization of wing and arm allow him to glide safely down or across some gaps, he is unable to fully fly.
The bulk of his height is more attributed to his legs than his elongated neck. Standing on sturdy avian legs clearly meant for running and use, it is obvious he has the same trait as his visual counterpart to kick-- and kick hard. Jumping, running, kicking, all are prime for his legs and come naturally to him. His feathers stop at his wrists and 'ankles'; from which a scaly skin covers the rest with the hardest scales protecting the tops or fronts of each.
When it comes to attire he is forced to adapt; wearing backless tunics to allow freedom of his arms. Primarily his clothing is of lighter cloth, or at most, hard leathers that are scraped a bit more thin to allow flexibility and movement. He may also collect shiny stones or other jewelry to adorn himself, if given the chance.
Personality
Quiet natured it seems, he's more likely to avoid the company of others he does not know, and seems to have very strong fight or flight responses. He is relatively slow or even begrudging to trust others, and may even lash out if he feels he's being forced too heavily to rely on anyone. In short, he's every bit the angsty, brooding teenager he looks to be.
History
Born to Rathor parents that were a goose and dove made for an interesting family mix. His father being highly protective, and his mother deeply caring. They were part of a small caravan that travelled selling textiles and jewelry, occasionally even picking up odd jobs to fill in the gaps when needed. It was in his formative years he learned how quickly he could move, and how easy it was to squeeze through tight spaces, making hide and seek far more interesting to him than the adults. He spent what time he could learning his parents' crafts-- his father showing him how to fight and his mother teaching him how to weave wires and trinkets to make jewelry. However, in the odd hours when he could overhear their worries of money, he'd slip away to whatever town they were passing... and find his way through tight spaces, quick and quiet... He would make sure his family did not fear for money, each time finding things that were easy to miss, things that were far out of sight and mind, that wouldn't be noticed for some time...
He awoke with a start one night, shaken by his mother who seemed in a panic. She would not tell him what was happening, but he can recall the smell of burning spices that did not belong to their usual campfire. The night was unusually warm, and she told him only that they were going to play hide and seek, and that he needed to "hide extra good, so no one can find you!" Still groggy from waking, he did as he was told, slipping away between crates and cupboards, finding his way onto a wagon he could not recognize in the dark, tucked away past the edge of camp, fairly hidden by the treeline and shuffling under its cargo.
He waited. He could hear their screams, see the dancing fire, and he waited.
He saw his father struggling with something in the distance, but he knew, he knew he had to stay hidden, his mother told him not to come out until she said it was clear... so he waited...
He saw them each cut down by strange flashes of light, the smell twisting his face-- and then...
everything was rushing away from him. The fire was growing distant. The screams fainter by the moment. He squirm and struggle to unbury himself but found the shifting of the cart had made him pinned under its cargo. That was the last he would see of his family, his friends, his home. The cart, belonging to a visitor from another caravan, who had come to trade, had made off with him before those who slung light and fire could find it. He didn't make a sound...
He was adopted into this other caravan after he had been discovered, be it out of pity or the fact that he had useful skills.. However, he did not speak to anyone, at all, and is believed to be mute. For this, he was taught sign language by one of the elders, and has become quite proficient in it. He shows full understanding of the original tongue, Vithmi, but only broken understanding of common-- attributed to his formative years with an all-Rathor caravan.
