Name: Noah
Species: American black bear
Age: 16
Description: Black fur with tan muzzle and eyebrows
Clothing: Basic clothes, jacket, backpack, and flat cap
Nationality: American
Bio: Noah wanted to be a cartoonist and entertainer, hoping to work in the budding animation business, but his father had other plans for him. After plenty of fighting, he had enough and ran away from home, managing to hitch a ride on a ship to some place in France, not knowing the rest of the details -- and barely aware of how brutal the war actually was. At least he had a decent grasp of the language. He hoped.
Extra: Tends to dive into ideas half-cocked, if his bio doesn't imply enough.
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The ship docked at the port, and Noah's plan nearly completed without a hitch, but sure enough he had to get caught sidling his way out of the cargo area. But to his awe, the sailors apparently thought he was sneaking in and kicked him right off. Perhaps it was expected a young stowaway would want to leave the war zone, not head straight in. Good thing not a word came from his mouth during the ordeal, otherwise he'd have blown his cover. Or they simply didn't care enough to bring him back home. Whatever the case, he was at his destination.
... Now what?
The bear wandered the village streets in awe at all the ruins of buildings and soldiers roaming the place. He really was in a war zone. The place was still chugging along, to his relief. He can finally restock on supplies and figure out where to go from here.
Noah plucked out his wallet and counted his cash before a concerning thought wedged deep into his noggin; he had not a coin of French currency. All he had was American cash, and he had no idea if they accepted it here. Even then, he didn't have much to work with.