For twelve years, Thuli was the 'Grey Ghost' of the Tenth Highland Vanguard, a scout who could track a snow-leopard through a blizzard. Her retirement didn't come from a wound or a loss of nerve, but from a quiet afternoon following a disastrous ambush. While hiding in a crevice, she watched her unit survive only because of the mottled, grey-and-white wool blankets she had hurriedly woven to shield them from the wind—the enemy's eyes had slid right over the texture of her craft, mistaking a dozen soldiers for a simple snowbank. In that moment, the 'Mountain-Craft' clicked: the tension of a bowstring and the tension of a warp-thread were the same language of survival.
She walked away from the legion with her Loom-Blade—a massive, hooked polearm designed for both defense and shearing giant mountain goats—and a rucksack full of raw fleece. Now, she wanders the highest peaks, following the seasonal migrations. She is a legend among the border-folk; they say if you are lost and shivering in the frost, you might find a seven-foot-tall woman sitting by a smokeless fire, who will offer you a bowl of broth and a pair of socks so perfectly knitted they feel like a second skin. She still scouts, but now she scouts for those the empire forgot, 'requisitioning' imperial supply caravans to ensure no child in the crags goes without a winter coat.