Profile of Rhychdir

A quilt stitched together, the bastard daughter of a bastard, the Bradshagh's daughter is him in every way but the colors of her pelt. She resides as a clash of two pelts placed together in a unique set of markings that leaves her undeniably recognizable. With her father's red-and-white hues, with her whore mother's gold-and-white hues, even her eyes reflect the two halves of her birth. A right eye, a dash of her mother, holds an ice blue, frozen deep inside, while the fire of her father resides in the left, with an eye of crimson passion. She walks upon the pink pads of her mother's paws, while the pale flesh of her nose and lips resembles the almost yellow-hued pink of her father.

Almost pristine from scarring outside of life's hardships, there is one marking that sets her fully as a Bradshagh. The marking given to them at birth starts at the bottom lip, halving her chin, all the way down to the curve of her breast; the distinctive Bradshagh scar. Her voice is a rough sound, a harsh dialect, the sound of a Celtic lineage, her voice holding no more emotion than her frozen eye. Her lips rarely trick themselves into a smile, and her tail rarely shows enthusiasm. Her gait is the march of the Bradshagh, inherent anger at the world that burns as brightly as the lava they say they spawned from.

- - -

• Facial scars from the protest in the Spring of 1710.
• Body scars from 1st Battle of the War of 1710.
• Facial scars from the 3rd Battle of the War of 1710.
• She is beginning to show age in features; slowing down and beginning to feel an ache in her joints.

fluent in common tongue.

Rhychdir, like much of her lineage, is a passionate creature. She feels her emotions in sometimes overwhelming ways and generally expresses them in manners that others might consider harsh, vulgar, or downright mean depending on the emotion. She is quick to anger; her temper a hair-pin trigger of a thing, that takes little to set it off.

Overall, she is not much for filling her head with fantasies — she is a realist, viewing the world for what it is: a harsh, often cruel place where every breath can be a fight to be had. This is a trait that she adopted from her father, whereas her mother was more of an idealist in many ways. Rhy is a fighter, above all else, and is willing to fight the good fight, if it ensures her safety, survival, and prosperity — and that of others, especially her family.

Vulgarities are second nature to the woman, and it’s hard-pressed at times to find a sentence that is uttered from her lips that doesn’t have some form of vulgarity within it. Her mannerisms are fiery and passionate, much like the nature of her God.

Rhy, despite her seemingly agnostic nature, is admittedly quite religious — she holds the traditions of her family, so based around their belief that the volcano of their homeland is their God, close to her heart. She has not pushed these ways harshly upon her children, although she had educated them, and her amore, in the ways that all Bradshaghs are raised and taught. The only tradition that she has not abided so harshly by was the Bradshagh Branding and has cast aside the Burning because she could not do such harsh things to her children when they were young. She has given her whole family the choice as to whether or not they wanted the Bradshagh Brand — the tell-tale scar that stretches from the tip of their chin, down between their front legs.

- - - In her time in the land of Rionnach, Rhychdir has come to learn their ways, and while she still holds her beliefs close to heart, she believes that it is a chance to create something new for the Bradshagh name, rather than being known only as the Bradshagh Bastards. She came seeking a new life, for both herself and her family… And while she came at a tumultuous time, Rhy believes that Rionnach, and now more specifically Saora, is where the Bradshaghs can form new traditions and standards for themselves.

Politically, while previously an Imperial Soldier, Rhy has always been more prone to support the ways and plight of the Highlanders, and has found herself aligning more with the call of King Jacob, rather than the ways and traditions of the Mainlanders and their King. That being said, she is too old now to fight the good fight of a war, and hopes to find peace in her approaching twilight years — her body and mind are both eight years old, despite the Fae affliction that has touched her and made her appear slightly younger than she actually is. Although, it seems to only have slowed her aging, as she now shows her age; with this being said, Rhychdir has calmed slightly from her fiery ways, and truthfully… Just wants a life of peace with her amour, where they grow old together.

prologue; A family of anger, a family of passion; both burn as brightly as the lava flows that they walk so calmly among, with no fear of molten stone belched from the earth’s core. A family of bastards, a name held only as a corrupted formality, almost a joke. What is a bastard with a surname? Does it have meaning? None of them can truly say, but they are the bastards with a name, a clan of illegitimate children, generally brought forth within violence. Unwilling mothers? Unwilling fathers? No, quite the contrary. Anger and hate breed together, wolves of a brilliant passion that burns white-hot, they love hard and short. Their encounters are fully consensual; bloodied bodies clash in a lustful fever, after a battle of both spoken words filled with the slash of claws and the flash of fire upon teeth.

Any wolf not born upon the slopes of the volcano, in a steam-filled inferno, or beneath the Hellmouth's belch cannot claim the name of Bradshagh. If the fire of the earth’s fury cannot be seen within their eyes, then they are not true. Their fire can either be white-hot or so frozen that it shatters metal with a single glare. Fychan Bradshagh met Tegyd, another bastard’s daughter unrelated who held the same passionate blessing, but a mistake in her own. Tegyd, while in name a Bradshagh, claimed the name only because her father held it. The she-wolf held far less fire in her heart than the rest of their genes. Instead, though, she possessed a frozen hatred, born within the mountains in the dead of winter, her eyes of ice drawing Fychan in, undeniably. In Bradshagh fashion, they clashed tooth and claw – Bradshagh wolves do not breed with those whose blood they do not draw, or with those who won’t draw a Bradshagh’s blood – their ritual glimpsed by the volcano, beneath its breath. In full blessing, Tegyd gave birth far up the slopes of the volcano, her fur warmed at night by the heat of the lava flows dangerously close.

She birthed two pups that night, a boy and a girl. Some ancient ritual, something long since abandoned and deemed as cruel drew its breath within Tegyd that night, her mate feeling its pull as well. The two pups, twins, but their colors switched writhed against each other, racing for their mother’s teat; she offered no help but merely watched their struggle. The female of the two reached and began feeding first, squealing and biting with gums as hard as her tiny body possibly could. Fychan moved from his mate’s shoulder, taking up his son between his jaws. He walked towards one of the flows. It was slow-moving, turning black before it slowly burst forth from its cooled confines. His fur singed, even smoldered in some places, his flesh blistering upon his paws as he moved as close to the flow as he physically could. He placed his son – screaming in pain – down onto the hot stone and retreated. The two watched as the pup tried to squirm away from danger, unable to move faster than the lava. He burst into flames before the molten stone touched him, his screaming had stopped shortly before the flames had sprung forth. The lava consumed him; he had been a sacrifice, an unwilling participant in a cruel ritual that a multitude of generations before had agreed to cease. It had once had a name that’s now forgotten to time: The Bradshagh Burning.

They named their daughter Rhychdir.

As time passed, she showed the typical Bradshagh personality – passionate, but somewhat short in temper, the vast majority of emotions coming across as anger. A harsh bunch, but loving in their own way, loyal to each other in strange ways. To cross a Bradshagh is to bring their fire forth; as we know… Fire burns. The family of bastards, all mostly born beneath a constellation dubbed the Rivalry, the Bear, or the Shadow. It was rare to find a Bradshagh not born beneath one of the three, and generally, they may claim Bradshagh blood, but not the name. There are exceptions though, that have been noted.

alone; Before her time in the Underworld, not much happened in Rhychdir's life.

the girl; While her pack was still known as the Underworld, and lived within the Caves, Rhychdir met a woman named Vettealya. Their first encounter taught her things she'd never experienced -- never thought of, even. They encountered each other several times after that, and soon, it became clear that Rhychdir was interested in the other woman.

cascade love story; When Underworld moved to the Cascades and became Legion, Rhychdir encountered Vettealya once again, after discovering that the woman had tracked them across Cyrileth from the Caves. It was then that Rhychdir knew that she didn't want the other to leave her. Vettealya joined the pack, and despite it not being 'official,' Rhychdir took the woman as her mate.

During this time, and their time in the Caves, Rhychdir realized that she had a soft spot for pups, and took on the job of personal protector for her leader's -- and friend -- pups.

Syndicare; Once again, the pack moved. This time, out of Cyrileth into a strange new land opened up, known as Pyria. They live within the Jungle Labyrinth. Vettealya followed, joining the pack herself. There was a leadership change within the pack and a role change for Rhychdir.

birth of fire; A visit to the volcano with Vettealya put four young -- orphaned -- pups at the two women’s paws. They took them in and raised them as their own. Rhychdir finds herself wanting Vettealya to take her name since their pups also possess the Bradshagh name. Her life partner never has taken the Bradshagh name.

Traveling; A year passes before Rhychdir decides to leave. She leaves both the remaining Syndicate members who stuck around after their disbandment and her family to find a better land. She leaves with the promise that she will return.

Rionnach; Coming to a new land, Rhychdir quickly finds herself enlisted in the ranks of the Imperial army. She lives her life as a soldier, learning the ways of the land, with every intention of traveling back to fetch her family… Although, a year’s time passes quicker than she would have expected it to.

Vettealya tracks her down, along with two of their pups, and family drama ensues. With a tumultuous relationship with her son, Braith, Rhychdir struggled with her newfound place within the Imperial Army. But, there is not much time to think about things, as a Protest breaks out, that soon turns into the formation of an all-out war.

After the first battle of the war, the woman finds herself shell-shocked. Her son finds her shortly after the battle, and the two confront each other… Although, emotionally and physically wounded Rhy finds herself more willing to give herself over without a fight than she’d ever initially thought. She makes the decision then to leave the Imperial Army’s ranks, classing herself as a deserter.

She flees those that hunt her, but comes back for the final battle to free war prisoners b before joining in the fighting… On the Jacobite side, this time.

Calm after the Storm; With the war over, Rhy flees to the highlands, leaving messages for her family to follow her there. She seeks asylum there, hoping that the destruction of records in Rionnach is enough to keep her safe within the newly forming lands of Saora...