Wrenley of the Lorcán Clan

But oh my, don't try to get close
I'm just gonna leave 'cause baby I'm a lone ranger

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Nickname(s) : Ren, Wren, Wreny (by siblings/some family)
Gender : Genderfluid (born mare)
Pronouns : She/her, they/them
Age : 28 years
Species : Hippocampus (chain catshark)

Herd : War-Forged
Occupation : Scout
Location(s) : Wherever she sets up her tent in Onea / Thane's home by Skeldr

Patron God(s) : Kaia & Cascade
Blessing(s) : Shape-shifting (locked)
Talent(s) : Naturist (locked) & scavenger (locked)

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Appearance & Voice

Maybe not the best suited for the weather of mountains and snow, Wrenley is of light breeds with some muscular build. Her coat is fair and light, her eyes that of a sunset framed by long lashes to shield them. What might have been the beautiful picture of an ideal daughter, became that of a tomboy who chopped the mane and tail her mother once brushed every day when she first woke up before going to family breakfast. Scars, especially gathered by her knees from years of falling and getting back up, showed that of a girl who wasn’t afraid to get into a fight with such a daring look in her eyes to accompany them.

Breed Type : Australian Stock x Standardbred
Phenotype : Silver grullo
Height : 16hh
Accessories : Eurasian lynx pelt given to her by her mother (herd item), sturdy horseshoes for treacherous climbing (herd item)
Weapon : A dagger strapped to her leg for easy access protection (locked)
Scars/Injuries: Some bumps and scars over the years
Voice : Crystal Reed (Allison Argent from Teen Wolf (show))

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Personality

[ Grounded (down-to-earth) | Steadfast || Determined | Unpretentious || Bad tempered | Headstrong ]

For those that know Wrenley, what might first come to mind is her stubborn mind. She has always been the kind of girl to put her hoof down, and when she did she dug it in. There would be no persuading her, no other ways. Once her mind was set, it had always been difficult to to sway her from the road she traveled on. To some, she can come across as having a bad temper for this. When she is challenged, when she is forced to do anything other than what she feels is right, she has little issue fighting for what she believes in. Words and curses falling from her mouth, her attitude is one that has buried under the skin of others for years. Burning coal, smoldering, it takes a great amount of effort or the physical force of her own hoof to get one’s bidding done.

Perhaps, such reason behind so, is unwavering loyalty to others she would fight for if not herself. Her views are ones she stands by, next to her friends she is closer to. To say she has their backs is an understatement as for some they have known just how far to the ends of the world she would to for them. In the most practical way possible, of course. Where some might joke all she has is hot steam up in her head, there is indeed a brain there. There are no illusions, tricks with Wren. Only what is and what can be.

It’s that kind of thought process that has brought the girl so far in life, her strives in it to prove what can become of her effort, her trials. Through her hard work, she overcomes. Not for others, not to show off to the world what a woman can do, but for herself. To prove to herself that she is worthy of all that she is and will be, Wren tries to the best that she can.

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History

[ Pre-Group History ]
Following tradition, as it had been the only constant in the lives of the once mighty clan of the Lorcán since the uniting of the clans under a single banner that waved, Wrenley’s story began with a husband, his wives, and their many children all within a home nestled between the trees and the countryside. Arranged marriages, promised hooves, and Maeve had found herself with a child within the first few months of living in the walls of the house. For a to-be mother who could have never wished for anything more, she gave to the once standing clan powerful sons to carry their name and fine daughters who to marry to others in the herd that came to be with reputable names. It was on a chilly evening, late in autumn, that Wren was born onto soft blankets and welcomed into the world by the midwife who passed her onto her mother after cleaning from the birth she had fought through to see the light.

Bright, deemed beautiful eyes by that of her father when he was finally allowed into the room to see the daughter his wife had given him had opened to the life she would be brought up in. As a daughter, she was expected to be perfect. There was never a hair out of place, a hoof out of line. One day, she was expected to bear the children of the husband she was wed to and continue the family line. For a child, however, little of her future responsibilities were understood. With an abundance of siblings and half-sibling in the halls and lands of the home, for many years all Wren wanted to do was play.

Exploring was in her blood, roughhousing in her bones. Where her sister preferred to sit and learn skills such as weaving or knitting among cooking and cleaning, it was in the mud she tumbled in with her brother she convinced let her join. Such behavior for a lady, however unlike Aodh they were with their high class, was unacceptable. Her distant figure of a father, a man who seemed to only come home to give her disappointing looks as he passed her by when she had twigs and sticks poking out of her hair that had just been brushed that morning, dumped her onto her mother and his others wives to clean and to teach properly. One day, she would have to learn what it meant being a mare.

Instead, young and rebellious, Wrenley struck out. She did the exact opposite of everything her father told her to do minus the teachings of what education was offered to her siblings and herself, and strove to prove not to others but to herself that she could be more than what she was seen as. She was more than what her father’s plan of her life had been laid out prior to her birth if she had been one gender or another, refusing to let others tell her how she would live her life. She stepped onto thin ice the day she enrolled into becoming a scout, training under them and learning their ways. What woman could be a warrior?

Shouting, the day she came back and word had caught wind that carried to the home, filled the halls once echoing with childish laughter. How dare she, against her father’s own command, become a scout? More cracks formed on the ice she tread upon, yet she had not looked back when she slammed the door, carrying her belongings on her back. It was, as the times changed her father quickly found out, a typical act of uprising against the authority of the house. Something would have to change about that.

As Silas struggled to find a way to rein his daughter in, it was in her line of work that Ren met [hidden name], a boy who had come from a similar background as hers. While their lives had never been difficult, no, they found a mutual understanding in living through the tough love that both of their fathers had offered them throughout their lives. Where one would never live up to be the flawless daughter, the other could never be the faultless son. It was during the rants late at night as one or the other paced outside their tents, the mornings when they first woke up with their head leaning against the other’s shoulder wondering who were they in such a life, that she found her best friend. Someone she could turn to, someone she could trust.

It was to him, that dear [hidden name], that Wrenley had run to when the ice caved in, her head underwater. In a last ditch effort to put his daughter on her intended path, he had given her hoof away to a merchant from a fellow former clan he had hoped lived up to his family’s good name. What was she to do, to say? What if she didn’t so much as like him as the way [hidden name] had befriended his own betrothed? All her worries, all her doubts, had been spilled over a carpet she had laid on beside him in the cabin he owned. There were reassuring words, of course, encouragement from the only friend she knew that would have them, though still.

Nerves twisted in her gut, her lungs feeling tied, as she had approached the home of her betrothed to knock at his door once leaving the only other home she’d come to know (as living in a tent hardly counted as any home). She’d closed her eyes, listening for the sound of hoofsteps, while her heartbeats counted down to the end of her carefree life as she’d known it.

[ Group History ]
Timeline 

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Relationships

Star Chart

Family :
○ Silas Lorcán ( NPC )
Father, alive, War-Forged raider
○ Maeve Lorcán ( NPC )
Biological mother, alive, War-Forged medic / midwife
○ A few step-mothers
○ Siblings and half-siblings alike

Other Connections :
○ [Hidden Name]
Best friend, would go to the ends of the world for, alive, loves (platonically), cares for, War-Forged raider
○ Thane of Clan Bragg ( Royaltrix )
Betrothed to, considers a friend, cares for, admittedly attracted to, alive, War-Forged traveling merchant
○ Alvane ( NorthernMyth )
Co-worker, sister-fiancee wife, close friend and confidant, alive, War-Forged scout
○ Starla Bell ( MistTheElf )
Unsure of, doesn't know much about, sister-fiancee wife, alive, War-Forged stationary merchant
○ Thane's wives, Isolde & Gala ( NPCs )
Sister-fiancee wives, alive
○ Thane's numerous children
Love, think practically as her own children, protective of, alive
○ Gwen ( waterdrup )
Acquaintance, alive, War-Forged farmer

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Additional Information

Orientation : 
Polyamorous pansexual

Likes :
○ Feminism, equality
○ Being out on ships, the smell of the sea
○ Being useful to her herd, aiding in what she finds important and protecting those she loves

Dislikes :
○ Being looked down upon, treated like property
○ Having to remain in her “land” form for too long
○ Anyone thinking they can get in her way

Hobbies :
○ Exploring, mapping out the land or nearby sea
○ Poorly sketching landscapes in a sketchbook she carries
○ Crushing degrading opinions of women and men alike
○ Flipping off rude offenders behind their backs
○ Swimming, relaxing after a long day of hard work

Theme Song : 
“Lone Ranger” by Rachel Platten

Other :
○ Ancestors were that of a clan, known as the Lorcán, who were fierce warriors that valued strong sons and obedient daughters. They unified under the War Lord Hira to avoid being banished or snuffed out like the lights that had once flickered in their homes
○ While traditional in the sense that she doesn’t mind big families, multiple wives or husbands, and plenty of children, she aims to help change the way women are perceived in the herd and to point out that they are more than just status symbols to boost the egos of some men
○ Can and will fight anyone that dares to humiliate a woman or man for who they are, who they love, or what they do in the herd
○ Despite her rough exterior, Ren has a soft heart. Children are especially a weakness aside from those with an obvious caring side, willing to spend hours babysitting and playing games with the little ones
○ A dream of hers is to one day own a small plot of land by the sea, a proper cottage filled with either her own children or dogs. She isn’t too picky what comes first or at all
○ Zodiac sign is the Peryton (born November 3rd)
○ Her favorite color is an earthy brown. Her aura is a dull tan

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Credits

Character © fallenraen 
Lineart © queerly (character creator) with edits by corruptedcorvid 
Design © corruptedcorvid 
Template / SA itself © Starborn-Alignment team

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Updates

September 6th: Created application
September 21st: Finished application
October 17th - 18th: Uploaded application / character submission, character acceptance
May 14th: Retired