Bald Mountain Holt is part of the Kshau Protectorate

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Image Credits: Lethe

Name Whitefern

Bonded to: . From:

Age: 30 Born in: Deathsleep season
Soul Name: ejen Known By: self only Found: discovered while waiting for his wolf-bond to come, Sorrel came to him only after his soul name did^
Sex: male Mate Status/Sex Preference: either, open to whatever
Children:
Parents/Relatives: Mother Downsoft (deceased at his birth), Adoptive mother Vinewalk (dead in cave collapse)
Father Coolwater (died in a fall when Whitefern was 2 turns) - a child of Lovemates, not recognition, rare among this group
Half-Sister (via Coolwater) Sage
Original Tribe: Wolf-Blooded Storm's Rise Holt. Arrived to Bald Mountain: 191
Height: 4'3" Build: skinny, long
Hair Color, Length, Style: white-blond, very short, extremely curly
Eye Color, Size, Shape: light brown almost tan, round
Skin Tone: lightly tanned only in sun, otherwise light beige
Overall Appearance: skinny and lanky, with big hands and long feet, longer than normal ears, and an easy, wide and toothy smile. He has lightly tanned skin, though outside of the sun he would return to a fair shade. He has no freckles, and only a few scars, mostly from hunts. His hair is shockingly white-blond, the color of white fungus on leaves, hence his name. He keeps his hair short, it is naturally curly to an extent that if he let it grow long, it would make him look like a poodle. Whitefern's eyes are a light brown shade, closer to tan than brown, and they are generally round and seeking. His face is very flexible and emotive, he loves making faces – if there are any young children in the tribe, he could entertain them for hours with his silly expressions.
Voice Quality: Whitefern's voice is on the edge of annoying, somewhat shrill, but he uses it very well, to his advantage. All the noises he can make in emulating animals and birds would hardly work very well if he had a big booming deep voice after all.
Clothing -- Summer: He wears simple, snug leathers of natural light tan coloration, leggings that come to his calves in ripped hems, and a short vest in a darker shade of brown. He prefers to go barefoot, though in winter or on bad terrain he will wear sandals or hide shoes. In very cold weather he adds a bearfur cloak, one which he and his sister share if need be.
Clothing -- Winter: adds cloak
Jewlery Worn, Made: none
Tatoos/Markings/Scars: Whitefern would love to have more interesting coloration, and often watches for pollen, thick flower sap, or other such things which could dye his skin or provide paint. Should a tattooist appear in the tribe, he'd definitely be up for getting images put on his skin, though anyone in their right mind would tell him he'd need to get a bit more muscular or fleshed out – he's just skin and bone, and mostly bone!
Pets/Animals Kept: none
Notable Posessions: none really beyond bone and stone weapons, looking forward to finding something way more impressive here at Bald Mountain
Holt Function: Scout, tracker
Strength: Average
Dexterity:
Above Average
Agility:
Very High
Health:
Above Average
Size:
Average
Intelligence:
Average
Appearance:
Average
Charisma:
Above Average
Magic Power:
Low
Magic? How Powerful? sending 5/10, magic feeling 1/10
Climate/Locations Preferred: warm air, cool breezes, autumn
General Likes: hunting and tracking, entertaining others
General Dislikes: confined spaces a bit, ground-quakes, bad visibility
Fears/Worries: losing more family - he has precious little of that left
Special Strange Info: Has vivid memories of the era in their lives when Two-Spear was leading them, and wishes that he could forget, maybe there is a way that one of these near high-ones in Bald Mountain could do that. Too bad that one seems to really hate wolf-blooded elves.
Basic Personality: Whitefern is an excitable, young seeming elf who was affected only minimally by the collapse and is relishing the new tribe's settling somewhere far away from Two Spear and his ilk. Though he's eager to please and a reasonably hard worker, Whitefern is also somewhat distractable and tends to do more than one thing at once, leading to confusion or sometimes things not getting done right. In all, he's on the more sedate end of ‘immature', but won't act very mature even when he's older. He is similar to a mix of Skywise and the earlier Scouter – gregarious and friendly, but not really serious.
How they feel about
Humans
: maybe his old chief rubbed off on him, his first inclination is to become defensive, but he'll learn in time that not all Humans, and particularly in this new era, are bad ones
Elves -- herders: huh, you can do that, makes sense
Elves -- magic users: amazed, but rely on skill more because at least it can't fail and turn bad on you, right?
Elves -- bond-riders: are... are there others who aren't? I guess? This tribe's amazing mounts and companions are far more impressive, he hates to admit, than just wolves...
Trolls, etc: It's a safe bet that if Two-Spear had met these with the tribe, they would absolutely have been wiped out by the burly and dangerous Trolls. He's learning how to hold a heavier weapon from the ones here!
Bond Animal Info if any: Sorrel, a large and highly ranked male. Sorrel is richly brown, with orange-tan markings on chest, face, forehead and legs, with a creamy underbelly and chin. He has reddish-orange eyes. Sorrel is taller than many wolves and burlier by far, with stout legs and a thick coat that make him look even bigger. He is fierce, but he is not necessarily ready or willing to challenge for the pack leadership. The wolf enjoys hunting and running, and is very adept at climbing rocky surfaces. Sorrel was among the wolves spared by the cave collapse, and has no fear of rushing into rockslides to grab his elf-bond and drag him to safety. Sorrel is around four hands old, still considered young by pack standards. He is of average intelligence and cunning. Mated to: Would probably find a mate, if allowed by the alphas. He'd be a very good sire to a litter of cubs, big and strong as he is.
Skills:

Riding: Since he has a big, energetic wolf, Whitefern's riding skill is strongly honed. He and Sorrel grew into their maturity together, so he's very used to the burly wolf's moves. Any other wolf he might have to ride, seems quite tame or even boring to him.

Hunting: Quite opposite his half-sister Sage, Whitefern enjoys hunting with a small group of riders, on up to a massive tribe-wide hunt. He's not afraid to get up close to large prey like scoop horn or rams, bear or big cats – but he doesn't have the taste to eat predators so much.

Weapons: Whitefern is adept with a short, heavy wooden spear with a stone tip, preferring to thrust rather than throw. He'd far rather feel the impact of any weapon into his prey. He also has a small bone dagger for gutting or killing small prey.

Tracking: Whitefern is good at recognizing signs of animal tracks, spoor and scent. He enjoys mimicking the sounds that deer and other medium-sized animals make, confusing them so that the pack can get around them.

Climbing/Exploration: because he loves to track things, he has become quite good at following things darn near anywhere they get into. Up on the top of a tree, in the depths of a cavern, underwater and almost off cliffsides. He is almost always looking for signs of life, as well as handholds or places to bounce off of should he fall.

Herbalism: though he is far from as adept as his sister is, he was taught enough herbalism to be able to help Sage hunt for grasses and spices. As a youth, he would be sent out to fetch particular things, so he's pretty good at spotting things which can be sent to him mentally for an image.

Notes: It is possible that if he gets much better with his animal-calls, he may change his name to something more appropriate like “Bellow”, “Wail”, “Wildcall” or whatnot.
History: ^ backstory about his soul name and bond to Sorrel
Whitefern's energetic desire to become a full hunter and impress the rest of the tribe was hindered by the fact that at nearly four hands old, he had yet to bond his first wolf. There had been cubs, but all had either been taken by others, or left for the unbonded pack. Finally there was a time when Whitefern had enough of this, and went off, ostensibly to find his own wolf his own way. Irresponsible as ever, however, Whitefern had neglected to tell anyone what he was doing or when he would be back. So by the time he'd cleared a dramatic ridge and realized he was far, far out of their sending range, he also heard the sound of a den of cubs. Whitefern fell between two large stones, and though he was uninjured he was also unable to get himself out properly. Trapped for a day and a night, with the sounds of a hungry cub nearby as well, Whitefern's only solace was that his soul-name appeared to him as the sun rose. Now named, now more confident even if he was still a bit weak with hunger, he felt that it was time to unwedge himself from the stones grip. As he did so, he felt a nip at his sandal-clad foot: a cub from the den nearby, tugging at him to help out. Sorrel was a big pup, with the same big paws and excitable face as Whitefern had. Together they went back to the tribe.
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