Floe-Queen - The Polar Bear
When the lead goes still and the birds stop calling, she is already under the ice.
Role in Its Society:
Floe-Queen is the apex hunter of the sea-ice margin where the coastline of the Whispering Tundra meets the sea. Her range stitches seal rookeries, drift-floe bridges, and whale carcass fields; her movements set the rhythm for wolves, foxes, and gulls who follow in her wake. She is not a villain—she is winter’s appetite given shape. To coastal clans she is an omen: if Floe-Queen haunts the rookery early, storms will close the leads; if she lingers inland, the ice will break late. Druids claim she “reads” the breath of the sea through pressure cracks. Hunters respect her as a rival; poachers fear her as a revenant that rises from black water without a sound.
Appearance Description:
A colossal polar she-bear, shoulders humped with muscle beneath a shag of yellow-white fur oiled by the sea. Hoarfrost beads along guard hairs; the nose is scarred matte-black with a white ridge of old frostbite. Her left upper canine snapped years ago—now a jagged ivory shard juts from her lip. Dark eyes like wet obsidian scan with tireless patience. Thick, paddle-wide paws end in onyx claws made for traction on ice and for raking seals from breathing holes.
Backstory:
As a young sow, Floe-Queen lost her first cub to a poacher’s barbed harpoon; when she pulled free, the head snapped her tooth. Since then she has hunted harpoon crews with the same precision she uses on seals—closing downwind, circling breathing holes, attacking when the line goes taut. A winter eladrin once spared her at arrow-length and bound a quiet pact: if Floe-Queen's kills are clean and the rookery is left room to recover, the druid’s kin will drive away poachers. She has kept that pact—until a new fleet began setting iron jaws on the floes.
