Wiley Briggs
[Character Picture]
[Character Picture]
| Age | 57 |
| Species | Red Fox (Cross Variation) |
| Pronouns | He/Him |
| Size (Extra Small, Small, Medium, Large, Extra Large) | Medium |
| Build | Sturdy, slightly heavyset |
| Rank | Lieutenant Commander (Imperial Navy) |
PHYSICAL DESCRIPTION:
Wiley Briggs is a red fox of the cross-variation, his once-vibrant coat now dulled and streaked with ash-grey across his muzzle, ruff, and tail tip. Standing at roughly 5’10”, he carries himself with the steady sway of a lifelong sailor. He has a bit of a belly beneath his coat, but solid and sure on his paws. His right eye bears a faint squint, giving him a perpetual look of scrutiny or amusement depending on the light.
He dresses in the weathered style of an old naval officer turned dockhand: a sun-faded longcoat, patched waistcoat, and a loosely tied neckerchief that’s seen as many ports as he has. His belt holds a short naval cutlass and a brass-hilted dagger, both of which are serviceable, not ornamental. His boots are scuffed and his coat always smells faintly of salt, tar, and rum.
In demeanor, Wiley blends the humor of an old sea-tale with the patience of a beast who’s seen the ocean take better beasts than him. He laughs easily, curses often, and still salutes the sea before every voyage.
Most beasts know him as “Old Briggs,” the superstitious officer who carries a small sock monkey named Momo, his stuffed childhood companion, dressed in a little sailor’s shirt. Momo is his remnant of home and family he’s kept through every storm and posting. Wiley claims it’s for luck, but those close to him know better: when he holds that little toy, the old fox isn’t thinking of the sea, but of the shore he left behind.
PERSONALITY:
Wiley Briggs is equal parts sailor, storyteller, and stubborn old fox. Beneath his gruff humor and rum-stained wit lies a heart guided by loyalty and quiet guilt. He’s superstitious to the bone: knocking wood before storms, tipping a drop of rum to the sea for luck, and swearing that every ship has a spirit of its own. He’s not gullible, but he believes there’s truth in old sea yarns; after all, he’s lived through a few that no one else would believe.
Among crew, he’s approachable and never one to pull rank unless duty demands it. He enjoys teaching younger sailors, though his lessons often come wrapped in sarcasm and half-true tales. Off duty, he’s talkative and quick to laugh, but his eyes betray a deep weariness when conversation drifts to the Winter War or the Sable Warden.
Though fiercely proud of his Vulpinsulan heritage, he’s no supremacist. His loyalty lies with ship and crew first, flag second. He judges a beast by the steadiness of their paws and the mettle in their heart, not by their species or size.
STRENGTHS:
• Seasoned Sailor: Decades of naval and privateer experience make him a master of tides, sails, and shipboard life.
• Command Presence: Calm under pressure and quick to rally others when fear takes hold.
• Moral Compass: Despite his rough manners, Wiley maintains a clear code. He'll never harm civilians, never betray crewmates, and never turn tail when others need him.
• Mentor’s Heart: Has a natural ability to instruct and inspire younger sailors through patience, humor, and old-world wisdom.
• Unshakable Loyalty: Once a beast earns his trust, they have it for life.
WEAKNESSES:
• Superstitious Nature: Deeply believes in omens and bad luck, sometimes letting signs and portents delay practical decisions.
• Haunted by Guilt: Still carries shame for abandoning the Navy after the Winter War and for disbanding his crew years later.
• Declining Health: A lingering illness left his lungs weak; prolonged exertion or cold damp can slow him considerably.
• Old Habits: Drinks heavily when stressed, often downplaying the seriousness of his condition.
• Soft Spot for the Past: Momo and memories of home can stir his emotions, making him reckless or distracted when reminded of family.
BIOGRAPHY:
Early Life (1708 – 1724)
Born in Bouillabaisse Harbor to a modest family of shipwrights, Wiley grew up among the hammer-song of the yards and the smell of salt pitch. His father expected him to inherit the family dock and keep books instead of ropes, but the young fox’s heart belonged to the sea. He spent more time loitering around Navy cutters than at the counting table, listening to sailors’ stories until wanderlust outweighed duty.
First Naval Service (1724 – 1734)
At sixteen Wiley enlisted in the Imperial Navy, lying about his age by a year and a half. Life aboard the sloops and cutters of the southern fleet proved both humbling and intoxicating: long months of tedium punctuated by the thrill of a storm or the crack of cannon. He earned the rank of petty officer and a reputation for luck, superstition, and a knack for keeping crews steady when officers froze.
When the Winter War erupted in 1733, Wiley served aboard a second-rate war sloop guarding Bouillabaisse Harbor. The invasion was catastrophic. Alkamarian fire ships broke the harbor defenses, and the city fell into chaos. With command in shambles and his captain paralyzed by fear, Wiley commandeered a launch and began ferrying refugees and wounded sailors through burning quays to ships still afloat offshore.
When Imperial forces finally retook the harbor months later, Wiley expected commendation. Instead, he was charged with dereliction for abandoning his post. His superior, the same fox who’d frozen under fire, was decorated. Disillusioned beyond repair, Wiley turned in his commission with a single line scrawled on the back of his discharge:
"The sea listens better than any Minister."
He walked away from the Navy and never looked back.
The Free Years (1734 – 1748)
Freedom came easy to a beast born with sea-spray in his fur. For the next decade Wiley lived by his paws and wits aboard anything that would float. He picked up enough dock-slang and sailor’s dialects to haggle in any port from Bully to Sampetra and beyond, though he never learned a language that wasn’t his own, the fox had an ear for the language of trade.
Smuggling started small: tobacco, dried fruit, spare rations. Soon it became Alkamarian cargo. “Reclaimed tribute,” as he called it. When Imperial patrols began turning a blind eye to raids that hurt only Alkamarian purses, Wiley stopped pretending to be respectable.
By 1739 he was first mate aboard the brigantine Sable Warden, working the outer routes near the Sea of Calamities. Her captain was a pompous drunk still pretending to run drills for an Admiralty that no longer cared. During a disastrous run near Valles Mensa, his cowardice nearly got the crew killed under Alkamarian arrows and slingstones. Wiley relieved him of command, alive but trussed in the bilge, and steered the ship out through the reefs himself. By the time they reached safe waters, Captain Briggs was a fact of life.
Under Wiley’s paw the Warden became something between smuggler and savior. He set three rules:
- No Imperium flags in the sights.
- No civilians harmed or robbed.
- No crew left behind.
The End of the Golden Tide (1748 – 1750)
When the Revolutions of 1748 erupted, the seas turned treacherous. Patrol routes vanished, ports changed hands weekly, and even pirates began struggling to survive. Wiley saw the writing on the tide. Rather than let the Warden be taken or his crew hanged, he split the profits, shook every paw aboard, and disbanded the company while they were still breathing to argue about it.
The Sable Warden returned to Bouillabaisse Harbor and was moored at his family’s dock. She still sails today under charter to a crew of honest traders who swear she rides smoother than any new-built brig.
The Second Service (1750 – 1765)
Wiley’s return to the Navy wasn’t driven by patriotism, but guilt. The peace he’d bought for his crew came at the price of the comrades he’d left behind. Every time he saw Navy pennants over Bouillabaisse, he felt the same pull: if the sea was going to claim him, better it be in uniform.
When the Imperium began rebuilding after the Revolutions, the fleet needed seasoned sailors more than spotless records. Wiley’s file was a mess of contradictions, but he was reinstated under conditional amnesty and posted to Bully Harbor, where he spent years overseeing refits, drilling recruits, and keeping the docks in order. It was dull work, but he treated it as penance for a life half-lived under the black flag.
Around 1760 a fever caught during a provisioning run left him bedridden for months. The lingering illness robbed him of his strength, and for years he was a land-locked officer, stamping cargo ledgers instead of deck boards.
Only recently has his vigor returned. The fur at his muzzle has silvered, the old cough still rattles when the fog rolls in, but his eyes burn bright again. Younger officers tease that the old fox dreams of dying at sea; Wiley only laughs and tells them:
"The sea’s had me on layaway since ’33."
He’s no hero, no saint, and certainly no admiral, but when a storm rises and lesser beasts falter, every paw on deck looks to Old Wiley Briggs.
POSSESSIONS / REAL ESTATE:
• Personal Effects: A brass-hilted naval dagger, a battered cutlass, and his beloved stuffed companion Momo: a sock monkey in a miniature sailor’s shirt, carried since childhood.
• Residence: A modest room above the docks in Bully Harbor, littered with charts, bottles, and a hammock instead of a bed.
• Ship Affiliation: Currently attached to the Imperial Navy’s Bully Harbor command as a senior officer awaiting reassignment to sea duty.
• Family Heirloom: The Sable Warden, once his command, now leased to merchant sailors operating out of Bouillabaisse Harbor
SKILLS:
| Physical | Mental | Social |
|---|---|---|
| Cutlass [Seasoned] (4) | Sailing [Seasoned] (4) | Command [Seasoned] (4) |
| Endurance [Proficient] (2) | Navigation [Proficient] (2) | Persuasion [Proficient] (2) |
| Medium Unit Organization [Trained] (1) | ||
| Repair & Maintenance [Trained] (1) | ||
| Total Points in Category: 6 | Total Points in Category: 8 | Total Points in Category: 6 |
