Three Feet of Snow - Fennik Glenwey, Lvl 6
(Items in green are updated! Previous profile for reference is here here)
Name: Fennik Glenwey.
Nicknames & Aliases: Fenn, Pigwidgeon, Winter’s Herald
Age: Appears to be around eight years old. Chronologically speaking, Fenn is at least as old as thirty five -- he isn’t quite certain.
Height & Weight: 3’9”, 52 lb.
Race: Frost Fae.
Occupation: Picker of Pockets, Seeker of Treasures, Herald of Banrion, Fool of the Arcana
Languages: As a mute, Fenn speaks no language -- though, he is able to make some pretty impressive squeaks and hisses. As a traveler, however, he has perfect understanding of Tradespeak and partial understanding of several Elven and Salvan dialects. He also has created a limited sign-language which only his mount Daugi and his closer friends can decipher (magical omniglottal shenanigans nonwithstanding).
Likes: Honey, oatmeal, shiny objects, the thrill of kleptomania, shiny objects, wolfmama Daugi, snekgrandma Banrion, shiny objects, food in general, money, and shiny objects.
Hates: Rain, people who try to stop his crime sprees, super spicy food, people touching his stuff, being bored, being denied information or material goods, and the sizzle of iron.
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Personality: Fenn is a nosy lad with a hunger for thrill, knowledge, and (above all else) interesting trinkets to hoard. He’d like to think himself the intellectual equal of any adult even if he acts more on impulse than maturity. At the same time, his inability to speak forces him to be more emotive and exaggerated in his actions than most people, which doesn't really help him look his age. Recent events have caused the tiny Fae to withdraw into himself a bit; he doesn’t trust strangers or adults so much anymore.
Appearance: On first glance, Fenn has the look of a gaunt, wispy blonde child swallowed up by his own cloak. A closer look reveals him to be inhuman in nature. Mostly it’s his oddly delicate features, such as his high cheekbones and ears that taper off to a point, that tip off others to it. Funnily enough, his ears are rather expressive and move much like a cat’s might. The most uncanny part of his face would be his eyes; pupil-less, bright green, and far too big on his face. Frost dapples his skin like freckles. His wrists and ankles are scarred black by unusual cuff-like burns.
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History: Fenn originated from the Concordian woods, foraging and hiding in solitary at the edge of the forest for a brief decade at the beginning of his life. He didn’t have any family nor any knowledge of a time before. He just… was. Burgeoning curiosity drove him to explore outside the trees he’d known all his life, towards the human establishments he saw from way afar, softly lit in the night. His first tentative trek to the nearest city was more grueling than he had anticipated, and by the time he had gotten there, he was exhausted and famished. Unable to walk another inch, Fenn collapsed on the streets. He doubted he would see another day.
To his surprise, he’d live to greet quite a few more sunrises.
A very small guild of petty thieves took in the poor child in out of pity. Fenn quickly became the baby of the group, and over time, he learned their trade and how to act in civilized society. Well, somewhat civilized, at least -- he definitely picked up a few crass words along the way. A lot of Fenn’s sense of self, such as his unusual way of writing and his penchant for thrill, developed with help from the thieves’ unofficial leader, a young man named Raster. Fenn adored him to death. Sadly, it couldn’t last forever. On one heist against a Drakari merchant, Raster was killed, splintering the thieves and shattering the boy’s heart in two. After the closest thing he had ever had to a family fell apart, Fenn acted on his wanderlust and decided to try the pickings in other places.
In his wanderings, Fenn met many fascinating creatures and humanoids. At one point, in a failed attempt to burgle a cottage off of Radasanth, Fenn ran into Vincent and John and wound up a distant ally of the Tarot. He also obtained his direwolf buddy, Daugi during a trip through the prairie. Most notably, a few years earlier, he was captured by slavers alongside a kind young woman named Amari who put up with his frustrating nature and helped him make his escape.
Unfortunately, Amari didn’t stay sweet forever -- Fenn didn’t know what went wrong with her, but it was not pretty. Her later meetings with the boy were fraught with terror. Once, she nearly killed him after mistaking him for an assassination target of hers. This lead to a tussle with Vincent Cain, whom promised to fix what was wrong with her. Fenn believed him.
A while later, Amari showed up again, in the guise of an old friend offering drinks. Fenn tries very hard to forget what happened next. The cuffs of black around his wrists and ankles won’t let him.
He’d also kind of like to forget what happened in Sidhe, except that his new ally, Chancellor Banrion, lives there. She has plans. Fenn doesn’t particularly care what they are right now; helping her gives him something to do while he gets his head sorted out.
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Skills:
Picking Locks & Pockets - As he has had time to practice his skills, Fenn has gathered knowledge to pick a somewhat complex lock within a few minutes and a simple lock within half of one. Pickpocketing, he learned from his old thieves’ guild. His ability has been fueled by a passionate obsession with “collecting” any small object he can get his hands on.
Navigation - Fenn has a keen sense of direction and is practiced in exploring and mentally mapping out both wilderness and urban areas. This makes treasure hunts much, much easier.
Herbology - From his original time spent in the forest and his travels after, Fenn has picked up a tip or two about which plants are delicious and which ones are icky and poisonous.
Inverted Literacy - Reading and writing upside-down and sideways is very useful for communication when you’re mute.
Wild Dance - Even without formal practice, Fenn is really able to cut a rug when music inspires him to do so. He suspects it to be a Fae thing.
Always Hungry - Mysteriously, the tiny boy is able to consume multiple hefty meals in one sitting. It seems that he is utterly incapable of ever being full. Where does he put it all?
(Ineffective) Beast Wrangling - DAUGI, NO. SPIT THAT OUT RIGHT NOW.
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Abilities:
Ice Attunement - As a Frost Fae, Fenn has a body temperature below thirty two degrees Fahrenheit and the innate ability to create snow and ice; though, he sometimes wonders if it isn’t controlling him, since it often acts up in response to his emotions rather than of his own volition. Aside from flung projectiles, his magic is strictly contact-based. Each of the below counts as a separate ability;
- Jack of Frost: When he has direct skin-to-skin contact with someone, Fenn is able to inflict a fairly mild frostbite on them, which can be useful in forcing people to break their hold on him. A more mundane utility for this, is that spreading frost over a flat surface turns it into a good doodlepad for the little Fae to spell out his thoughts on. This ability can also freeze over water if he is in contact with it for long enough. To his dismay, it never really turns itself off...
- Stormy Disposition: Fenn can make it lightly snow and hail in the area around him. It’s a useful skill for whipping up some cover if he needs it.
- Foul Snowball: With a flick of his hand, Fenn can summon and hurl around snowball-sized chunks of ice. Currently, they have a hardness slightly below that of steel.
- Piercing Cold: Whoops; Fenn has accidentally figured out how to make sharper icicles alongside his typical chunks of blunt-force-trauma. They are lighter than his ice chunks, and also pointier, but are of a similar strength nonetheless. Long-distance stabbery may ensue -- if he can figure out how to aim the damn things.
Flutter - Ability locked until level seven.
Glamour - Fenn can cast an illusion to briefly disguise himself as another being or animal. The effect only lasts up to thirty minutes, and right now he can only disguise himself as something he has seen before. His skill is weak, so it isn’t hard for those with a trained eye to see the spell for what it is.
Magic Sensitivity - As a Fae, Fenn has an innate ability to tell whether an object or person is magical or enchanted. The ability can only be use to tell if there is magic present, not to discern the particular kind of magic. To him, residual magic “feels bright”. This sense only activates if he is in near direct contact with the object, person, or aura of magic in question. Which, when it comes to dangerous things, is probably far closer than he would ever want to be.
Dexterity - Fenn is twice as nimble than the average human, courtesy of many years spent picking pockets and fleeing from his own follies in total panic.
Thieving Nature - Fenn, the sticky-fingered little bug that he is, accumulates (and spends) the gold of unwary pockets as easily as he breathes. As such, he earns a 15% bonus to GP on completed threads.
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Equipment:
Clothes - Fenn is often seen wearing a baggy green cloak, brown breeches, and a white shirt two sizes too large. Socks? Shoes? Fuck those, Fenn’s a foot nudist. A pendant hangs around his neck by a silver chain, usually tucked under his shirt. This is...
Suan Gadai, The Dreamstone - A smooth, silver-green rock fashioned out of machalite and traded for Fenn’s Ethereal Crystal and Amari’s Locket (sorry Amari) by none other than Chancellor Banrion Aoife of the Winter Court. It allows Fenn to communicate with her in his dreams, and she to access to his memories during his waking hours -- so long as he wears it. It also faintly glows in the dark! Hooray for shiny!
Special Sifan Satchel - The loose cloth bag that Fenn has slung over his shoulder; a white sifan satchel enchanted to hold as much as a large rain barrel and always be as light as if empty. It’s filled with the useless knick-knacks he can’t help but pick up and pilfer along the way. The clutter consists mainly of Fenn’s old torn-up bag, bright stones, cheap jewelry, empty wallets, bottle corks, snail shells, buttons, wanted posters, candy wrappers, faded maps, ancient coins, light adventure novels, stray wires, and rusty pins. The latter two are good for picking simple locks. There is absolutely nothing made of iron in the hoard.
Brass Whistle - A small, simple whistle crafted from brass. Fenn stores it in the frontmost pocket of his bag where he can reach it with ease. It makes a shrill sound when blown into, making it his easiest way to catch other’s attention -- and to summon his massive direwolf buddy.
Familiar - Daugi the Direwoof Mama.
Once upon a time, a sick Fenn encountered an injured and packless direwolf. Desperate for a meal, she chased him up a tree and collapsed. Once he got over his initial terror, Fenn took pity on the dying creature and nursed her back to health. In turn, she evidently decided that he was a better packmate than a snack, taking him in and allowing the tiny Fae to ride on her back in exchange for affection and the occasional treat. She seems to consider Fenn to be her pup, much to the dismay of his ego, and is rapidly developing a habit of overprotectiveness to defend her only friend. After many adventures together (and much time learning to live with each other’s various quirks and shortcomings), they are nearly inseparable.
As it stands, Daugi is a hulking beast of raw muscle and floofy black fur, who is a few heads taller than Fenn when she is down on all fours. Her one good eye is a bloodshot red. Despite her rough appearance, she’s begun acting more like a giant golden retriever mama than an untamed wolf when Fenn’s around -- usually. She still has a willful wildness that causes her little buddy some trouble from time to time. Fenn uses her as a mount, which allows him to travel far more swiftly than he did on foot. Daugi tends to stay within a fifty-foot radius of him at all times, the exception being when she wanders off for a bit in order to hunt. A keen nose and the call of his whistle will always bring her back to him, however.
Having no magical powers of her own, Daugi makes do by defending herself and her childish charge with raw physical strength. Her claws aren’t made for scratching but her snaggletoothed maw gives aggressors reason to think twice before crossing Fenn. The direwolf’s bite can snap bones and inflict heavy wounds if Fenn allows her to go all-out. She cannot be used in competitive threads.
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Theme Songs: Memory, We’re All Mad Here, and Dreaming
Banrion’s Theme - The Dragon Master, Cost of the Crown
