-Carnie name: Velch Vari
-Race: Kitsune-Tsuki (Born)
-Effective Age: 47 - Late Stage Tsuki
-Former Job: Acquisitions And Diversions Specialist
Inarticulate Vulpine Screeching Pending Assignment - (In Training)
Description: Velch is a 6'1, lean, Kitsune-Tsuki. The lightly tanned, somewhat muscular fox weighing in at somewhere between 140 and 160lb is surprisingly fit for a given specimen of his species. Piercing yellow eyes peer at his surroundings from a face framed by particularly unkempt, straight black hair, the tangled mess showing signs of neglect and home barbering- presumably severed with a knife whenever it grew inconveniently long. A pair of black, white tipped, pointed vulpine ears protrude from the matted mess, the ears matched by a similarly patterned, long furred tail protruding from his lower spine. A handful of small freckles and scars dot the vulpine's tanned skin, although none of them are particularly notable. Most recently, the fox's most common expression has been a pained, fangfilled snarl, his otherwise striking features twisted in inarticulate rage, his clawed fingers balled into fists. Another recent change has been in his physical build- unwanted biomantic alterations softening his otherwise masculine form, much to his dismay.
-Bio: Velch was born to uncertain parents somewhere in the vicinity of Beliotha City. Abandoned on the steps of an orphanage as a baby, presumably due to his atypical physiology; Velch grew up a relatively quiet, albeit stubborn and occasionally violent child. The other orphans quickly learned it was simply best to exclude him, he didn't want to talk to them, they didn't want to talk to him, and the last one to try harassing him got a finger bitten off.
The vulpine spent much of his childhood sitting by himself. Reading, introspecting, and otherwise doing his own thing. His significant distaste for food of any sort- which he frequently referred to as tasteless was a cause for much concern to the orphanage staff. Kids need food, after all, however with his relatively stable weight and lack of obvious malnutrition, the concerns died down as the years dragged on.
Velch remained like this throughout much of his early teens, finding very little interest in his fellow urchins, often wandering off orphanage premises to watch the far more vibrant market crowds. They felt more 'real' to him. More 'energetic.' The shapes and flows of various meandering people bleeding into a dimly colored tapestry in the back of his mind. Prickles of dulled flavor bubbling around him.
And then one day he saw a bright green light amidst the tapestry. A taste unlike any other. A delectable wave. An adrenaline fueled Thrill. He decided, as it began to fade amidst the ambiance, that he would very much like to have some more. He followed the taste home, the lingering scraps a delicious trail, familiar buildings blurring to unknowns as he crossed the districts. No attention given to his surroundings.
Velch met the man he would come to think of as a father with an unceremonious, dazed bump into the leg of the Thrill's source. The immediate density, as well as the trail of specks having sated a hunger he hadn't known he'd had.
He'd bumped into a man named Elchbold. A career thief whom had been attempting to lose him for the past five hours and had hit wits end. A quick Q&A session found a rapidly tiring Velch getting carted off to the man's safehouse. The fox was asleep before they even reached the door.
Velch awoke to a far brighter tapestry. The dull bubbling in the back of his skull had erupted into a crackling flame. There was energy where before there had been nothing. Elchbold had been awaiting his awakening. An Empath was useful, the man declared. He'd be taught the trade and he'd be fed. He'd have a place.
Elchbold made true on his pronouncement in the following decades. Velch learned the Rules, he learned how to find a mark, how to cut a purse, how to work as a group or alone. He was taught to appraise, how to barter, to pick and bypass locks, to slip unnoticed through crowds, to disguise oneself, and many other skills of the trade. The fox even found a handful of other desired flavors during his apprenticeship, from Elchbold, random civilians, and even the odd guard. Joy, Mania, Defiance, Stubbornness, Glee, Desire. Each one bringing with it a short coma and a new awareness and tinge to his world. His budding arcana expressing itself through the plentiful flavors of the city.
However all good things come to an end, one way or another. Elchbold buggered up. He got caught twice in short succession. He didn't have a payment ready. He broke the third Rule and found himself imprisoned. Velch would be left to his own devices for a number of years. He continued as he had, visiting his adoptive father frequently in the dead of night, his blooming skill as an illusionist blinding the wardens to his presence. The odd care package or associate's message being dropped. News of the outside world. Quiet, moonlit chats.
Time marched on. A traveling circus came to town one day. Velch filched the crowds as he often would on an idle afternoon. And then he made the mistake that would prove to bring him naught but misery. He stole from Foreigners in their place of power, and Foreigners don't follow the Rules. They don't take payments. They don't have the Agreement to still their hand. Velch was abducted and pressed into slavery. Velch is not a happy fox. The Rules need a new Rule.
Velch slowly drifts amidst the crowds, the black haired vulpine bumping lightly against fellow sightseers and tourists with relative frequency, the fox taking in the scents and flavors of hundreds of sapients worth of emotion. Lightly muscled limbs steadying those whom he oh so clumsily stumbled into, murmured apologies and the slightest twinge of azure foxfire distracting marks from both his lightly tanned, toothily grinning face and his true targets- their wallets and coinpurses. Clawed fingers slipping into pockets and severing purse strings. The emptied shells discarded to the ground a dozen meters away, to be trodden upon by the masses of fairgoers as he melts into the meandering crowds. A good haul, all things considered. Piercing eyes flick amidst the sea of people, his furred, pointed ears perked as he peruses, picking out the rich and poor alike. Having just relieved a particularly lucrative mark of his wallet, he pockets the currency in his pouchladen, light leather jacket. The vulpine tossing the emptied currency carrier behind him, stretching out in a back popping yawn, his lengthy, furred tail curling in the air, the appendage trailing from a seemingly self-tailored hole in his trousers.