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Canine Spirit
Date of Birth:
12th July 2020
[Image: AciXr7V.png]

Foeman is difficult to make out unless he's manifested. His body cycles between abstract shapes and defined features, roughly resembling a wolfdog. His large ears and pointed snout give the impression of coyote or Red Wolf and German Shepherd blood. Two fiery eyes of molten gold trail with bright yellow streaks, as if alight or steaming. His body is the color of fog and clouds over a wildfire, swirling like mist lost in yellowish smoke. What would've been fur suggests he was once shaggy and double-coated, rippling with his movement. His body is tall and well-built, and in life, he would've been large for his heritage. The scent of woodsmoke follows him wherever he goes, tinged with salt and the faint stink of a hot beach. If touched, he leaves paws icy-cold and damp, but feels like plush frozen fur when formed.

Foeman rarely makes a sound. When invisible or slightly-manifested, he may stir the leaves around him in a faint breeze. The temperature lowers in his presence, ranging from a faint, chilling presence to a cold spot. If he tries to speak while unmanifested, all that's heard are faint whispers that echo. When he does take a more solid shape, his voice is a deep baritone and all his vocalizations reverberate. His accent is Newfoundland Irish, with a touch of something Nordic at the edge of his words. His eyes glow brighter when he has strong emotions or becomes solid, but he otherwise acts like a canine.

Reference Images: Mugshots
For now, Foeman is a neutral entity. He's a little bit selfish and a little bit devious, but he means no harm to the living. He sees them as more of a curiosity, reminding him of something he can't quite put a paw on. Most of his time is spent in observation, watching as the warm and breathing come and go. The only time he acts aggressive if when he feels something wrong is being done in front of him. Otherwise, he's prone to the odd bout of mischief, making strange noises or picking up objects to move them.

Foeman also has a fascination with living sensation. He's never tried it, but he wants to one day take over a canine to experience their senses. He's not even sure he can do such a thing, but it's something Foeman fantasizes about. Sometimes, he gets a wisp of memory from a strong scent or feeling, and it has him wanting more. Foeman isn't sure where this longing comes from, but can be as driving as hunger is for the alive. He can't help but wonder how fascinating a life he must've lived if he wants to experience it again.

Curious as Foeman is, there are things that give him pause, and chief among that is magic. Whether because of some psychological force or unexplained power, wards work on Foeman. Salt circles, effigies, and magic knots are a few things that can keep Foeman from approaching. This said, they only seem to work if Foeman recognizes them as wards, and "magic" he doesn't identify has no effect. Foeman can't help but wonder if this was a phobia he had in life, translating over to death in a strange way.
Foeman is unaware of any relationships from his previous life. From what he can tell, no one is searching or mourning for him.
Foeman is currently alone.
Foeman can't remember how he ended up dead. He's not even sure where his body is, though he suspects it might be out at sea. He became conscious and aware of his current state of being on a foggy, stormy morning a year ago. Somewhere on the land bridge that separates Loch Fundy from the sea, he appeared on four legs with a blink.

And ever since then, he's vaguely wondered how he arrived there, as he didn't recognize the land bridge at all. Nor did he recognize the two halves of land it connected, or the giant Loch in front of him. The only reason he has a name is because he has a faint memory of a favorite song: " ... Stand there on the prow / Noble barque I steer / Steady course for the haven / Hew many foe-men ...." He stared at the water for a long while, the sun passing over him and day fading into night, before deciding to explore. As best he could, he navigated the treacherous rocks of the bridge, flinching at any waves or sharp stones. He could still feel the faint sensations of them, but found that the wet and pain was tolerable. He didn't grow tired unless he ventured too far from the land bridge, and even then, he built up a tolerance. Aimless and curious, he spent time wandering up and down the north and south shores of the Loch. It wasn't long before he realized he could solidify, pulling energy from sentient beings to do so.

Foeman's wandering hasn't stopped. If he goes too far away from or up the coast, he finds he "passes out" and appears back on the land bridge a day or two later. Despite this, he can't help but travel, biding his time by seeing how the shorelines change each season. He's met a few travelers in his time, but they either didn't see him or had the living daylights scared out of them. He has yet to see the westernmost shoe, having stayed away due to word of settled packs there.
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