Fathom

✦ INTRO ✦

Name: Fathom
Meaning: (“fathom” is a unit of measurement, often for water depths)
Gender: Female
Age: Adult - 2 Years
Birthdate: someday

Territory: None;
Loner Band: Crewmate of The Scourgers
Rank: None
Task: None

✦ DETAILS ✦

Height: 33"
Weight: 94 lbs

Appearance: Lean, long, and slinky, with fur somewhat wispy and flat, like it has had too much saltwater in it. She has very narrow legs, a slim tail, and an overall sleek look. Even with her fur bristled, she doesn’t bear much mass. Her ears are long and thin, and she has a scuffed-up face. The fur on her neck hits a point above her shoulders. Her claws are rather uneven and gnarled.
Stance/Gait: Holds herself low most of the time, with long strides and a somewhat flamboyant flourish. Usually wearing a sneer-type expression, though it is hard to decipher whether it is a smile or a frown.
Marks: Her ears are torn at the tips. She has a few scratches on her muzzle and a large one on her right forelimb. 

Scent: the Stinky. ocean wind.
Voice: Raspy, crackly, high-pitched. 

✦ RELATIONSHIPS ✦

Kin: Snapjaw (mother, NPC), Flicker (sister, NPC), Abalone (sister, NPC), Petrichor (aunt, NPC)
Sexuality: Lesbian
Mate: None
Pups: None
Friends: what

✦ BIO ✦

Personality: Hot-headed, rash, vengeful, unpredictable, energetic, resourceful, adaptable, silly, bizarre, pesky.
Driven & Misleading
An absolute freak of a creature, Fathom takes the world in five steps to every single one she ought to be making. Each day is an adventure, and she is the protagonist, curses be darned. She was not raised as one, and so now she is now making it so. She will take what she wants - both literally and figuratively. There is so much out there, and Fathom wants to see it all. But she doesn’t often appear to have a goal - and in appearances as a whole she is rather confusing. She can switch moods very quickly, and they are often ‘fake’ or covers to what she is actually feeling.

Rash & Energetic
Fathom’s high-speed nature leaves her jumping the gun in most situations, which is not always a good thing. She moves in a flurry, like somehow set at a speed beyond that which the rest of the world moves at. She does not tend to think before tearing off in a certain direction, or if she does produce one coherent thought, it is likely to change four seconds later. She is damn hard to keep up with, both for friend and foe. 

Adaptable & Absorbent 
But on the opposite side, she is incredibly good at adapting to a change or mishap. There’s a balance there, though it is one that she doesn’t always achieve. At times she switches easily under pressure, but if she’s completely unfamiliar with a situation, she might fumble. She’s fairly attentive when she wants to be, and therefore a quick learner. It may not always stick after a few days, though. 

She is more clever than she is broadly intelligent. Keen to certain things in the moment, but not always able to grasp a big picture. 

Facts:

• She’s not very big, but she is decent in combat. Tends to play dirty and uses her speed and unpredictability to her advantage.
• (camera pans around the crew, everyone looks menacing. And then it pans over and we see Fathom lying on the ground, gnawing on her leg)

Themes: Playlist

✦ HISTORY ✦

Pre-Group History: TW: violence and death
Fathom was born to the sound of the sea; the thunder of waves crashing onto cliff shores. She was the youngest of three lives granted to the Tidoon pack that evening, to single mother Snapjaw. Hidden among the forest’s edge, where the ocean air licked the trees damp, the three pups - Fathom, Abalone, and Flicker - began their days. While Snapjaw nursed her pups, mostly alone, her sister Petrichor traveled back and forth from Tidoon’s current residence with news of the pack’s goals. 

Tidoon moved territories fairly often. They spent many moons near the coast during summer, but often moved inland during winter. At times their travels took them incredible distances, and it wasn’t often they lived in the same place during a wolf’s lifespan. They survived as a small, orderly unit that offered no threat to other packs but instead a beneficial trade or two. Their mantra was to listen well and work hard, for everything out there was stronger than them. 

And this had recently been proven true. The group had suffered losses a moon or so ago by the paws of a massive empirical pack, merciless to any that traipsed too close. Snapjaw’s mate had been one of the casualties. Tidoon planned to desert the area as soon as Snapjaw’s pups were able to travel. 

While the pack stayed low, so did Snapjaw and her litter. The pups grew quick, unaware of the danger beyond their seaside nest. Snapjaw instilled in them fierce obedience early on, as her parents had done with her. A wandering pup was a dead pup. She was a strict and somewhat detached mother, still suffering from the grief of losing her mate, though she had always been somewhat stoic and closed-off. At times, it was her sister Petrichor who spent afternoons watching the pups, while Snapjaw returned to Tidoon. More and more often this occurred. 

And at last they were old enough to join up with the rest of Tidoon. Snapjaw, Petrichor, and the three sisters were brought to the temporary densite to greet the pack. It was a warm reception, though rushed. Only a few days later, Tidoon set out. 

They traveled slowly, leisurely, sticking near the coastline and enjoying the benefits the ocean provided. Once away from the empirical pack’s danger (something that was never quite explained to the pups), Fathom and her sisters spent many hours watching their older packmates catch shorebirds and dig up turtle eggs, and quickly learned how to swim in the shallows (and the dangers of going out too far). Not but a month later they settled for a while, and scouting groups made contact with another pack. A much friendlier type than the last, and Tidoon shared their bounty with their temporary neighbors, in return for knowledge and herbs. 

Fathom was expected to take interest in serving the pack in some way, but for the most part she found herself idling. Snapjaw interacted even less with her offspring, seemingly content to forget them and dive right back into orderly duties. Fathom found this enraging. The thought of slotting into Tidoon as a good little packwolf, like her mother surely wanted, made her sick. Instead of learning the pack’s ways and roles, Fathom slacked off. She made mischief and messed about, she ran off and swam in the sea, she tiptoed across the borders of the other pack. Several times she would get a verbal scolding, but the more it happened the more it became meaningless. 

Even Flicker and Abalone sought tasks, though they were just as jaded by Snapjaw’s distance. As the sisters grew, Tidoon traveled again, and Fathom excelled for once. Moving was good - she was freer! She zipped along, chasing seabirds and rabbits. There was less time for nagging and scolding. But before long they settled again - to trade with a pack they were long-time barter partners with. Fathom decided to keep going - thinking it would be funny for someone to come and get her. Abalone did. She was not as amused as her sister, and Fathom’s antics were shuffled straight to the pack’s leaders, a council of three elders. As punishment, they tore her ears. Disobedience could not be tolerated. 

In response, she ran off that night. She came across the borders of the other pack, and paid them no mind. They were friendly, or whatever, and she had no reason to fear. 

She ran face first into a patrol. They threw her to the ground and perhaps knocked a bit of sense into her skull. Trespassing was a crime, they told her, and the goodwill between the two packs would not last if Tidoon came prancing past scent-lines without good reason. Fathom, a little bloody and somewhat shaken, scurried back home. 

Fathom kept her head down for a few weeks after. Even her relationship with her sisters was strained. She began to distance herself socially, only mingling among her packmates to work. Yet no one praised her for this change. She learned to spar, more aware of danger beyond Tidoon’s grasp. And resentment lingered, building up as time stretched on. The pack traveled again, and Fathom’s mask began to crack. She spent more and more time away from them, which was much easier when they were on the move. In the back of her mind a voice urged her to simply leave one night. It would be so easy. 

So she did. 

She backtracked along the coast until her paws were sore, but Tidoon did not intend to lose one of their members, no matter how useless. Two high-ranked wolves tracked her down and demanded she return. She lashed out at them, and a scuffle began. A precarious location on the cliffs by the sea made it far more dangerous, and as Fathom tried to escape, one of the wolves lost his footing and fell onto the rocks below. 

Fathom, bloodied and now guiltier than ever, tumbled her way to the beach and ran. The next thing she remembered is waking up to several eyes staring at her bruised and bedraggled form. 

The Scourgers took her in. Internally, Fathom was bitter and sought her first chance to move on, but something about their loyalty put a halt on that decision. Or perhaps it was the knowledge they’d stopped to help her to her paws without really caring who she was. They were unlike her pack, but also familiar in a way - the sea was their ally, too. Maybe in the long run they’d had higher goals, but in the moment she felt like she belonged.

And they had everything she’d ever wanted: freedom, the ties to the sea, and the means to play games with the world without the consequences of strict leadership. 

So she stayed. 

She ran with them, finding kindred among a group for the first time in her life - and being proud of that. Memories of Tidoon were pressed aside and left to rot, an era she had no intention of returning to. She had a home - it moved around, but it was hers this time: Captain Rook, Murtagh, Jackdaw, and Joanna. 

Moons past, and it was well. Only until their latest adventure turned on its head. A raging river betrayed them, no matter how water-worthy their paws. Fathom lost sight of the rest in the storm, and the river carried her far. By the time she dragged herself onto its banks she was exhausted, and passed out. When she woke she was alone and lost. 

Other: this is just a goblin shark, btw