Minerva Frosttail
Skills
Skills
Total Points Available To Spend |
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The default for new characters over 16 is 12, for characters under 16 it is 11. |
Physical
-Fighting Style: Longbow, Seasoned (4)
-Fighting Style: Spear, Novice (1)
-Approach: Speed, Trained (2)
Total Points In Category: 7
Mental
-Trade: Huntress, Trained (2)
-Knowledge: Tracking, Trained (2)
Total Points In Category: 4
Social
-Social Skill: Intimidation, Novice (1)
Total Points In Category: 1
General Information
Age: 24
Species: Arctic Fox
Size: Medium
Physical Description
Covered in white, dense fur. Minerva's body is well-defined. Athletic and chiselled yet lean. While clean, she does look a bit unkept, especially her head fur. Her pale blue eyes are usually narrow due to years of living among the snow and frost. She does walk around with wary look and doesn't seem to be happy most of the time.
Her clothing is made of warm furs, made to keep warmth while keeping her movements free. Due to the area of procurement, it is also whitish, albeit Minerva did dye the ridges to match her eyes. She walks around with her longbow and hunting spear on her back.
Inventory and Real Estate
-Longbow passed from her mother.
-Hunting Spear
-Tailored to her clothes
-Crude work-knife
-Quiver made from wood.
Personality
-Distrustful
-Loner
-Reliable
-Zealous
-Practical
Strengths
-Not afraid of any task
-Great huntress and archer
-Unbothered by death
-Good at planning and survival
Weaknesses
-Harsh on herself and others
-Despite everything, lonely
-Often blinded by her beliefs
-"The end justifies the means."
History
Minerva comes from about as far north as any beast dares to live. There were just vary small tribes that also covered huge areas. Minerva was born however to a lone huntress, Inorra. Few of those wandered the frosty landscape and didn't bother with tribal life, only occasionally trading with them for what was needed. Such was the life Minerva was to be raised in.
From her earliest days, she was taught survival skills, how to track, hunt, skin, craft and anything that was needed in this unwelcoming wasteland. She was eager learner, especially as her own survival depended on it, but she wasn't as talented at every aspect. She loved the hunting, tracking her prey and using her skills to down it. Other skills however, she was not the best at them to say the least. Her mother was patient with teaching her, but she was growingly displeased with her progeny inaptitude.
But for now it was all fine, Minerva was hunting while Inorra took care of everything else that was needed to survive. It lasted for a few years, till Inorra fell ill. In her suffering, she started losing her mind, speaking of winter spirits that the locals worshipped as if she met them herself. Her madness grew to the point she claimed that Minerva's father was, in fact, one of the spirits.
Minerva, knowing no other beasts, having her mother as her only companion and authority, didn't know any better. She bought into her mother madness, herself believing it as if she was saw the truth herself.
And when Inorra died, Minerva had now a massive problem. She could hunt well. She couldn't however survive on her own.
So she wandered across the arctic, ending up at one of the tribes, one that she hunted for in exchange for a place to sleep and resources she needed. But her lack of real social skills combined with her beliefs into what others considered heretcial, made her a very hated individual. She did however manage to stick to this tribe, until a lone ship of whalers came around, one in dire need of food.
She offered them her services, in exchange for leaving this land. It was hers, but she didn't feel welcome there anymore. Being both lonely and unwelcome in her own home made her seek new one.
And while the whalers wasn't exactly too fond of her either, she learned from them a lot about their lands before joining them on the ship to come back to the so called Bully Harbour. She didn't care much for those beasts not liking her too.
Somewhere, there must be a place she would call home. Someone, would accept her.
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