Qanipalaat

Operator Qanipalaat has extensive experience in wilderness rescue, having functioned on a search and rescue team in the Sami region. Born to a Sami tribe, he knew very little about the outside world and left Sami in search of a higher standard of medical care. He now works as a field operator for Rhodes Island, supporting operations in extreme environments.

Imaging tests reveal clear, normal outlines of internal organs, and no abnormal shadows have been detected. Originium granules have not been detected in the circulatory system and there is no sign of infection. At this time, the operator is believed to be uninfected.

[Cell-Originium Assimilation] 0%
Operator Qanipalaat shows no signs of Originium infection.

[Blood Originium-Crystal Density] 0.13u/L
Operator Qanipalaat is in good health and much stronger than he appears. His previous living conditions saw Originium only lightly utilized. He has not contracted Oripathy from exposure to Originium.

Upon arrival at Rhodes Island, Qanipalaat found everything terribly foreign.
At first, operators assumed that Qanipalaat was uncomfortable because it was his first time at a large corporation, or because he was unfamiliar with and had trouble adjusting to tedious paperwork. It was after some admittedly hilarious incidents that they realized he really knew nothing of life outside of Sami. The most infamous one being the 'nightlong battle between Qanipalaat and the access card.' Legend has it that Qanipalaat, who had just been assigned a dormitory, spent the whole night looking for a 'keyhole' on the door to insert his access card into. No one knows what really happened, beyond that the next morning, the assigned roommate returned from an operation to find him squatting in the chilly corridor before the dormitory door. Following his helpless gaze, the roommate saw a now legendary sight: a piece of the access card embedded deeply into the door.
Upon arriving at Rhodes Island, Qanipalaat was given a full set of custom-made modern equipment, which in theory would allow him to make the most of his Arts talent. But the reality is that Qanipalaat's staff is a stick-shaped melee weapon. He spent a while in the training room until the poor staff broke in two. This incident led to the postponement of a scheduled field operation. But after that, Qanipalaat learned to study the manual in advance and ask for advice from senior operators. Serious about his studies, he eventually became familiar with all his equipment, and began to undertake field missions as expected. Now, while he still occasionally struggles with deeply-ingrained habits and old ways of thinking, he has developed a knack for adapting to life in the outside world.

One of Qanipalaat's favorite pastimes, when he's not out on a field op or caring for his mother, is sharing stories of his home with the Rhode Islanders.
Sami is an ancient and mysterious land, and the tales that come out of it draw curious ears. Whether describing the unique customs of his tribe or regaling the people with his stories of rescue operations, our operators love to hear Qanipalaat talk. But what they love most are the old Sami fables that he always seems to tell at exactly the right time.
After an operation that went less than ideal, and facing operators who were less than happy with its outcome, Qanipalaat told the story of a Sami boy who, in order to cure his ailing mother, embarked on a journey in pursuit of a brilliant light in the night sky. He only knew that at the end of the journey, the light would lead him to a gigantic, mute spirit that would grant him the medicine to cure all disease. He trekked through the wind and snow, until he reached the end of his journey, where he found only desolate ice fields.
'So he came up empty-handed? That's so sad,' an operator sighed.
'Oh, but it isn't.'
Qanipalaat shared the end of the story: Although the boy never got to meet the spirit, he happened to pick the unremarkable flowers of the tundra. When he returned to his tribe, he discovered that it was the very herb to cure his mother.
'As long as we press forward with bravery, even if the sky we find is not what we hoped, appearing unnoticed beneath our feet just might be exactly what we need.'
For Qanipalaat himself, his stories are more than a simple desire to share. He loves seeing the eyes of our operators shine with inspiration after hearing his tales. They give him a tangible sense of accomplishment, having done a service for others. After all, he has always worked hard to help people.

The vast majority of the Sami tribespeople undergo a kind of divination known as tsoavttsom to get an idea of what the future may hold. Qanipalaat is no exception to this tradition. 'Guolldo.' The light showed that he would encounter tremendous difficulties and trudge through a lifetime of adversity.
Of course, as with all forms of divination, tsoavttsom is never limited to just one interpretation.
Qanipalaat's tribe is located near a bog. He encountered a Colombian expedition when he was a child, and that contact made him aware of the fragility of life at too early an age. In the harsh, unfamiliar lands of Sami, countless ambitious explorers find themselves flash-frozen into snow-covered mounds. The loss of life made him sad, and when he was grown, Qanipalaat insisted on joining the tribe's search and rescue team, using their skills to help those in need. The explorers had told him a little about the world outside of Sami, and he believed it was a peaceful place, far less dangerous than Sami.
At the time, he could not know that not all dangers to life were so apparent. Coming face-to-face with the invisible threat known as disease left him feeling helpless for the first time. Originium Arts could only alleviate symptoms, and while he could save people from snow and wind, he could not stop disease from consuming lives. It wasn't until Colombian explorers brought advanced medical equipment that many of the tribe's illnesses were cured under the care of the doctors who accompanied them. Since then, Qanipalaat has become aware that people outside Sami also suffer under various threats. They have developed different medical treatments over the course of their long struggles, warding off disease with the benefit of their experience. If only the tribe could have such medical prowess, how wonderful! Qanipalaat had the idea to reach out to the outside world, and later, his mother's illness pushed him out of Sami.
'Contribute to the outside world and bring medical technology back to the tribe.'
That was the idea with which Qanipalaat stepped out of Sami. And things really did play out that way. Since joining Rhodes Island, he has traveled back and forth between the tribe and the outside world, working toward a better future for both sides. In a sense, the divination was right. 'Guolldo,' the snowstorm, does loom over Qanipalaat's path. But he has always broken through the guolldo, to open the way and bring in hope.

Qanipalaat's tribe is a favorite base camp for Colombian explorers, not only because of its proximity to the mysterious northern mountains, but also because of the tribe's search and rescue team. They are a group of warriors who battle against the dangers of nature, and with their knowledge of the ancient lands beneath their feet, they have rescued many imperiled explorers. To the northern explorers, the SAR team became a beacon of hope.
But that hope belies a high casualty rate among the team. Unless they decide to quit, they do the job for life. Many SAR team members end up sick and broken after years of trekking through the harsh environment. And if an operation encounters extreme conditions, the risk of injury or death to the team skyrockets. According to Qanipalaat, his two older brothers were both wounded and quit the team, while his father, also on the SAR team, went missing during an operation in a blizzard and never returned. The team operates under extreme danger for extended periods, no less than the expeditions.
What is even more surprising is that such an organization was established among the Sami tribes. They do not ask anything in return, completely selflessly volunteering as rescuers. Qanipalaat's attitude towards the team he was once a member of is representative of the general attitude of the tribe, to a certain extent.
'I often dream of the snow whistling in the north, the fear of it makes you want to run. Of course, I knew the danger, but this was my purpose.'
He spoke without fear, revealing the Sami qualities of courage, kindness, and respect for life. It is from these qualities that the Sami search and rescue team was born, an origin that is widely recognized by the outside world.
However, a recently discovered clue has muddled the once-clear origins of the search and rescue team: a Colombian explorer recorded in his notes that when his expedition first came to the tribe, it had already seen organized rescue workers. This shows that the SAR team is not a product of the tribe's contact with the Columbians, and in fact has a much longer history. And so we have a mystery: why does such a group exist with a long history and such high risk? Does the rescue team truly exist only to rescue? And if not, what is their real purpose? What is it that makes them willing to risk their lives to bring back those in distress?
Maybe their real purpose... is the very act itself?

A few days ago, a succession of operators received gifts from Qanipalaat.
The gifts were very sudden, and puzzled many of the recipients. Only later did they learn the reason behind them from Qanipalaat himself: after he came to Rhodes Island, his fellow operators helped him adapt, and at the same time Rhodes Island provided Sami with a large amount of medical equipment, which greatly improved the health of the tribe. Through these gifts, Qanipalaat hoped to convey his and his tribe's gratitude.
The first gifts were mostly Sami handicrafts, or musical instruments and botanical specimens unique to the land. Simple but fine, the gifts were well received by the operators. When they thanked Qanipalaat, the brightness in his eyes as he asked 'Do you really like it?' made a deep impression on them. Only a small number of the operators felt slightly creeped out, and none of them could have predicted what would happen next.
Since then, Qanipalaat has become more and more enthusiastic about bringing back Sami specialties and offering ever more gifts, but the nature of these gifts is increasingly esoteric to our operators. Weirdly shaped amulets and knives decorated with animal bones are still within the acceptable range, but the most peculiar gift so far is a beautiful wooden box that gives off a foul smell. According to a note from Qanipalaat, the wooden box contains 'a food item made from a trapped fowlbeast fermented in the stomach of a dead burdenbeast,' which is recognized as a rare delicacy in the tribe. The note concludes with Qanipalaat noting that it must be eaten raw to truly appreciate the taste. Obviously, not all members of the tribe can afford to eat such delicacies. To this day, many operators would prefer not to recall the smell that came out of their forcibly closed dormitories that day.
Nevertheless, Sami styles became popular at Rhodes Island thanks to Qanipalaat's gifts. Sami wood carvings can be found in the cupboards, Sami-style delicacies grace the cafeteria menu, and Sami specialty fabrics that are as comfortable as they are beautiful are worn by operators on off days. Thanks to Qanipalaat's efforts, not only have his tribe's living conditions improved thanks to outside help, but the ancient Sami culture also shed its mysterious veneer and gradually became accepted for its pure and unique beauty.
We believe that Qanipalaat has become a bridge between ancient Sami and modern Terra, and he still has room to grow.