Hali Snowhide
Skills
Skills
Total Points Available To Spend |
|---|
The default for new characters over 16 is 12, for characters under 16 it is 11. |
Physical
Pathfinding [Skilled] (2 Points)
"Roads are simply suggestions. We'll find another trail."
Archery [Skilled] (2 Points)
"Take account of the wind, your breath and even your heartbeat, and you'll never miss."
Survival (Cold Environments) [Proficient] (3 Points)
"I’ve slept in blizzards warmer than most city beds."
Total Points In Category
7
Mental
Wilderness Lore [Skilled] (2 Points)
"You can learn a lot just by observing the change in the leaves."
Plant Identification [Skilled] (2 Points)
"Don't eat that. It'll turn your tongue black... Then it will fall off."
Skill [Rank] (Points)
Total Points In Category
4
Social
Intimidation [Novice] (1 Point)
"It's innate. I don’t always growl to scare them. Sometimes I just stand up."
-Skill [Rank] (Points)
-Skill [Rank] (Points)
Total Points In Category
1
General Information
Age: 24
Species: Wolverine
Biological Sex: Female
Pronouns: She/Her
Size: Large
Physical Description
Inventory and Real Estate
- Longbow, hand-carved and rune-marked.
- Dagger, worn but cared for.
- Bone-handled skinning knife.
- Fur-lined satchel with traps, flint, and a healing poultice.
- No home or fixed address.
Personality
Taciturn and perceptive, Hali Snowhide says little but watches everything. Loyalty is not given lightly, but once earned, it’s unshakable. She holds to old customs and rarely trusts warm halls or silver tongues. She's an exceptional survivalist in cold regions, a skilled hunter and silent scout with. Often resolute and fearless under pressure.Strengths
+ Fiercely Self-Reliant. She survives by her own work easily.+ Calm Under Pressure. Whether in blizzards or in back alleys she stays quiet, watchful, and unshaken.
+ Quick to Adapt. She reads the terrain and finds a way to endure always.
Weaknesses
- Poor communicator. She keeps her opinions and words well guarded and when she speaks, she often fumbles over her words. Her village appreciated the blunt ways they spoke to each other, but not so much the finer folk.- Hard to convince. Betrayal has taught her to keep everyone at arm’s length. Even those who mean well are treated with weariness.
- No Social Graces. She's not able to navigate the expansive webs of lies, laws, or politics. The city moves in ways she doesn’t fully understand.
History
Hali hails from a small fishing village in the far north, sitting quietly in snowy fields and coniferous forests, straddled by the shoreline, where the coast is defined by the huge ice slabs which never seem to melt even in the summer. This reclusive village of hardy mustelids consists of several families -- mostly fishermen and crabbers -- who eke out their lives day to day, hauling their catch back to land and selling dried rations to stock larders and bilge lockers. Being born to a single mother, her paternal lineage has been a subject of conspiracy, Hali's father was a soldier left behind by his unit after a near-fatal injury, seeking refuge with the village. Her father then left to return to service, unaware that his lover was expecting.
Her childhood was marked by both solitude and self-reliance. Without the traditional family structure that most children had, she often felt disconnected from the village, bearing the weight of her father’s absence like an unspoken curse. Her mother, though loving, was frequently absorbed in her duties with her new family, and her stepfather wasn't especially close. It wasn't easy growing up with three half-siblings who often squabbled and fought over every morsel. Often, this led Hali to fend for herself when it came to foraging for newly sprouted berries and mushrooms to sustain her family. Formal education was limited in the village, and many children learned directly from their parents about trades and lifestyles, rather than from a teacher. She was forged in solitude and sharpened by the wild coastlines and fields; she knew how to read the riverways, how to traverse mountain ranges, and how to gut a fish with her eyes closed before she ever learned to write. She knew the subtle difference between medicinal plants and toxic weeds that dotted the land, learning how to craft camps and using her precise aim to shoot ziplines and cable crossings across ice canyons. This hardiness and willingness to travel for hard-to-find herbs and forage in the most testing of extremes gave her some notoriety; if the local apothecary needed something, the wolverine Hali would be willing to find it.
On a particularly bitter winter, a strange ship docked at port. Not a fishing ship or a cargo ship, but an expedition ship. The town bustled with strangers and voices, many bemused by the humble life of the village and its charming atmosphere. The pubs suddenly found themselves with a raucous group of privileged nobles, whimpering about the lack of hospitality and local friendliness. A strange fox, a southern noble with more silk than sense who led the expedition, had begun pestering the locals for anyone willing to escort them through the snowbanks and further north. Many refused to help and turned their noses away from the stranger or whisked them away to the next person. Finally, a comment from an oyster-shucking otter suggested they speak to the young scouting wolverine, Hali.
Hali found herself eventually cornered by the strange noble, his handshake too forced and his grip too rough as he desperately begged for any guidance to travel north. His exact destination was unknown, but he assuredly and confidently believed he knew. Hali paused, considered, and looked towards his travel companions: two other foxes, over-dressed and under-prepared for the tough winter storms ahead. Their smiles were subtle and gestured with a twirl, beckoning her to make a decision as soon as possible.
A foolish vulpine with a deathwish, she thought, but a well-paying one.
She nodded, accepting the position as pathfinder and scout. The eccentric fox gave a quick, firm handshake before tapping his feet and dashing back into the depths of his ship, announcing that the team would be leaving soon to the north. Hali brushed the back of her neck, unsure of what she had exactly promised. The fox was seemingly coming here for... nothing.
A servant stepped in front of Hali, she had to crane her neck down to see the figure.
"Young Master Verrik believes he will find a key to a box," the vole Donahue quietly uttered, "if he finds the place that parchment mentions. The problem is, no one knows what it exactly says. It's just his word we're following."
Hali looked on; Lord Verrik did indeed have a strange parchment clenched in his left hand while he spoke to her, and as he fumbled up the ladder to the deck of the ship, a small sealed chest was tucked under his arm.
"The master has fanciful flights of fantasy, and we're here to ensure he is in one piece," Donahue adjusted his glasses, "We'll be out of your fur soon enough, once the bitter cold sobers him up. Just keep your head low, and we'll see that you get a cut of the pay." Hali nodded, quietly sensing that it was a well-kept secret among many of the workers.
Her instincts were correct as it was an unspoken understanding that many of the expedition members were all pretending for the sake of the ludicrous pay spilling out so freely from Verrik's hands. She could see the servants bustling around, finding busy work and repeating their jobs to rationalize the generous wages they received. Even the two other well-dressed fox friends, Mister Logan and Sir Virgil, seemed to be in on it, exploiting of Verrik's extravagant spending whilst enjoying the ride. Verrik paid for everything: every bed, every meal -- and even when his friends let slip an unintentional insult, it was quickly forgiven with a coin.
When Verrik's party set out for the wilds, everything started to change. The servants quickly realized they needed to step up and do actual work: hauling, clearing the way for the group, setting up tents and tending fires for the night ahead. The noble fox eagerly followed Hali, asking all sorts of questions about the land. Verrik jotted down new pathways and pushed the expedition forward, still never letting go of his box or parchment out of view.
The servants scrambled behind them, mumbling under their breath about the ardurous journey as they set up camp. Some resentment billowed from more uncommited members, suggesting that Hali was attempting to shake off the unprepared or underskilled workers, she seemed to glide through the snowy woods with practiced ease with a few favoured members of the expedition, leaving the rest of the team tired and ragged.
Hali needed very little to stay comfortable, but it seemed like everyone else longed to be wrapped in silk blankets and resting on goosefeather mattresses, often complaining and getting cranky over any inconvenience. The lively foxes started to grumble, Verrik initially fussing about minor things and then about the unavoidable challenges of traveling, Logan's stomach rumbled about the food, while Virgil cried about missing his parents at home. Four days had gone by, and they had crisscrossed the land in unpredictable patterns, searching for something that neither Hali nor even Verrik truly understood.
People started approaching Verrik more personally, especially Donahue, who was eager to chat and gently persuade the lord that it might be time to move on. It seemed quite likely that the answer to the chest's perplexing lock could be hiding somewhere else, preferably between two cushions in a courtesan house.
One night, a fierce blizzard whipped through the area, forcing the expedition team to retreat back to an earlier camp. The embers in the old campfire were slowly dying down as Hali tried to coax some warmth back into the campsite. The servants were drained from the ordeal; some looked genuinely scared, some showing early signs of pneumonia. A rattling cough echoed through the camp, adding to the tense atmosphere. Finally, Verrik's nerves gave out. His fingers snapped under the pressure, and in a swift decision, he stepped into the centre of the camp. Dropping the chest, crumpling the parchment, he cleared his throat, hoping to catch the attention of his equally frostbitten companions and servants.
"We are in the wrong spot. We leave tomorrow," Verrik announced crestfallen.
Hali was about to question Verrik, but the entire expedition gave the wolverine a warning glance. Donahue gestured a thumb to his throat, pantomiming a cut throat and pointed finger to hush.
"Hear-hear!" said the camp's cook.
"Finally! back to civilisation," Virgil uttered.
The team left right after the storm finally settled down. No hesitation, no arguments, the tension from the expedition was tangible. With two sick and unable to walk, the expedition slowly marched back to the village, and as a result, the camp grew colder and more distant. Nobody in the team even glanced at the parchment or opened the chest, that was left out in the snow, trying not to raise any suspicions.
They spotted the lights of the village in the fading afternoon. A laborer managed to hide his joy, and someone in the background let out a quiet sigh of relief. Everyone seemed to feel a wave of ease that the expedition was finally, finally coming to an end, even if it hadn't quite been the success Verrik hoped for. As they made their way back to the boat, the Verrik’s head was bowed in disappointment, while his friends and servants shared tentative smiles and exchanged whispered words, hinting at a mix of relief and quiet judgement.
They settled in for the night and pocketed their pay. Hali was even handed a satchel filled with gold coins, which she immediately tucked into her pockets. Her job finished, Hali spent some time at the warm inn, resting her tired frame. The next morning, just as the sun was rising, she was awakened by a gentle knocking on her door. It was Lord Verrik, his feathered hat balanced in his hands, casting a keen eye her way.
Verrik spoke up warmly, "I could really use someone like you to come with me back to the homeland for some recuperation, then onward to the southern territories." He paused thoughtfully. "A good-sized sum of gold will be yours after the journey, plus extra if you decide to come along."
Hali leaned against the door frame, pondering her options. She knew she’d have to tell her family she’d be gone for quite some time.
Verrik nodded confidently. "Don’t worry! Send them a letter, and it should do the trick."
Hali hesitated. "But my parents can't read," she explained softly. "They wouldn't understand it."
"No problem at all! I'll send a bird messenger to read it out to them." He then tried to put an arm around her shoulders, but she gently shrugged him off. Hali accepted the job and prepared quickly, only needing her rucksack and tools to board.
The boat thrummed with frantic energy, alive with the chaos of a buzzing hive workers. The sailors scurrying with urgent purpose their voices rising in anticipation as they prepared to set sail. Amidst the excitement, Logan and Virgil sank onto the deck below. In mere moments, the ropes were slackened, the boarding plank was taken away, sealing their departure into the sea. A ripple of unease swept through the servants as their eyes tore across the formidable form of the Wolverine. Faces twisted in disgust, hearts pounded visceral fear. Whispers of shared distrust and trembling doubts seeped through the air.
"More competition," one lapine quietly commented, "Eating the rations."
"Probably could eat one of us," guffawed a rodent.
Hali cocked her head to the side, unsure where this hostility was coming from. Even Donahue closed off to Hali when the ship finally set sail. She kept the advice from the vole, remain quiet and unassuming, even if every bone in her body told to speak up. Gold was gold, and whilst she preferred the tranquil life of the village and her home the promised income could change her family's life for the better.
Within chaotic flurry of the departing ship, a crushing wave of despair shattered Hali’s heart. Her message, her hope to reach her family had not been delivered. When the sparrow nested in the bird's nest without any clue that she was to relay a message.
"Sorry, Master Verrik must have forgotten."
The guilt overwhelmed Hali, The ship had already made it out beyond the crooked rocks surrounding the island.
"These things happen," Donahue dimissed, sticking close to the Wolverine, "Do you really think we'll turn the boat around for a simple message?"
Hali went silent. That seemed to be the preferred response for everyone.
The ship docked with a groan, its belly empty and stinking of long travel. They were in Bully Harbor. Hali looked ahead, seeing high walls, teetering spires, everything made of stone and rusted metal. She stepped onto the dock with her bow slung between her shoulderblades, her breath sharp from the change in air. The first thing Hali noticed was that it reeked of fish oil, forge smoke, as if fires were constantly burning paper, it tickled the back of her throat.
She was told they’d stay for two weeks to resupply and give shore leave. Verrik promised they’d be bound for the South soon after. The rest of the crew all seemed to be prepared to go their own seperate ways, blending into the crowd of officers, scholars, and sailors spilling onto the docks. Hali looked at hustle and bustle, daily life for the adapted cityfolk, but undecipherable to the wolverine, it seemed impossible to pick anyone in the crowd. People had places to be, family to visit and the ship emptied out one by one. Verrik had left for his estate, being trailed by Donahue, Virgil and Logan, stroking the ego of their lord as they whisked him away by carriage to unknown places.
The first few days, Hali stayed on the ship. She sharpened her arrows, she mended her gear. The city was loud and confusing, so it took some courage and preperation to finally enter.
She asked questions, few of the dockworkers hired answered.
"Out. Nobles got their circles to run in, people to see."
"He give you his return date?"
“Ain’t our business,” a badger snapped, "Now off the ship."
The galley closed for repairs just as the cargo deck was locked. Hali moved her gear onto the dock. By day seven, she was in the streets, running out of trail rations. She tried bartering, a carved comb for a heel of bread and successfully stemmed her hunger for a day. On day ten, she surveyed the state of the docked boat like every day, finding any trace of work possible. Some of the dockworkers mumbled and groaned. She offered to work at the docks, hauling the load of caught fish from industrializing fishermen.
"We hire those who know the city, not ilk that smell like dens," one jokingly barked, dimissing the wolverine.
Evenntually, she found shelter under the broken stairs of a dilapidated warehouse, beside the salt-crusted boards of a forgotten pier. She set traps for crabs and eels, using abandoned crates and ropes to string up a crude alarm. It wasn’t home, but it beat lingering in the streets and waiting.
Day Fourteen had arrived, and the crew began to regroup in the early morning.
The ship was nowhere to be seen.
"The damn idiot's gone and ditched half of the crew again," the dock-working badger crumpled up and pegged his hat into the pier boards.
"Oh a betcha it was that darned vole again" one voice complained, "Always conspiring, always gettin' the master riled up at shadows."
"There goes the best paycheck I've had in years..." a rat sniffled. The group begin to murmur, rumbling ideas to reunite with their master and find their pay. They formed a tight circle and planned their next move.
Hali lingered about in the conversation, and with a disgruntled huff, someone spoke up.
"How about you move on, lass? Verrik's gone and found himself a new set of crew," A rat looked over his shoulder, "You'll find easy enough work peddling that brawn of yours to another noble."
"And what about my pay?" Hali lifted a brow and crossing her arms.
"Not my problem. Take it up to Verrik if you ever see that walking good-for-nothing dolt, I'm sure you can shake it out of him."
The crew went dead silent as Hali slunk away.
No goodbye. No coin. Not even a goodbye message. The dock was empty. Hali was left stranded at a bloated port where you could be swallowed whole. Hali couldn't scream, she couldn't rage out. There was just a cold, clean snap of reality hitting her, just like the billowing winds before a blizzard, she had time to prepare. She sat on the edge of the pier, trying to settle thoughts. It didn’t change the outcome, but it made her feel better prepared for what was next: She was alone. In a place not made for beasts like her.
She touched the bow slung over her shoulder. Calloused fingers. Raw leather grip. Familiar and still her own. She’d been taught to track, to listen, to live off what the land gave, even if the land was stone and smoke now. She would not die here and she would not be humiliated by the city’s cruelty or by a noble’s cowardice.
"You know how to survive. You always have."
She stood up.
