CW // Ruaridh | Bachelor | Infantry

General Information

Name-- Ruaridh (Pronounced: Ror-ree)
Nickname-- Ru? But honestly? He doesn't like nicknames, fine for Mum to make a cutesy name for him, but try it yourself? See what happens. 
Age--  30
Gender--  Male / Stallion
Breed-- Fjord horse / Egyptian Arabian / Dutch Warmblood... Bit of a mutt really. There must be some Appaloosa blood in there somewhere as well, as his tail seems unnaturally sparse in hair. (GOD... don't mention the tail, its a bit of a sore point. If tail envy was a thing, he'd have it, let's put it that way).
Color--  Dun. Basically characteristic Fjord colouring. Has a white lace marking which seems to have been carried along his mother’s line. 
Height--  16hh - tall, but obviously not from his Arab or Fjord roots... More than likely the Dutch warmblood end if the spectrum. 
Orientation-- Pansexual. Tends to blow hot and cold with his interest swinging from intense, to indifference without so much as a thought.
Mate-- None
Progeny-- fav.me/d87kkjg

Herd Affiliation-- The Bachelor Herd
Rank-- Infantry

Voice Actor-- Aidan Turner -- m.youtube.com/watch?v=sCpKGZbI…

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Personality

Ruaridh is the full embodiment of extremes and intensity. He is a very deep, intense personality, there is always more than meets the eye. He presents a cool, detached and unemotional air to the world yet lying underneath is tremendous power, extreme strength, intense passion and a strong will and a persistent drive. He has a very penetrative mind, do not be surprised if he asks questions, it is his way of delving deeper and figuring things out. He always wants to know why, where and any other possible detail he can possibly know. Ruaridh gets very weary of the games that other people try to play and remains very canny to them. He tends to dominate and control anyone that lets him. The individuals that Ruaridh respects and holds close to him are treated with amazing kindness, loyalty and generosity. On the outside, he has great secretiveness and mystery. This magnetically draws others to him. He is known to be controlling and too ambitious at times  but only because of his need for control. It is this control that makes him feel safe.

Introspective | Volatile | Witty | Sarcastic | Charmismatic | Stalwart | Steadfast | Obstinate | Mellow 

INTROSPECTIVE
"When words are scarce they are seldom spent in vain." -- William Shakespeare

Why introspective? Well, he tends to keep his mouth shut. He is the sort of individual who will only speak once in a blue moon. Not because he doesn't know how to, or doesn't have the capacity to, but because he knows that the careless use of words can cost a lot in certain situations. He'd rather stand sentinel to situations, and chip in only when invited to. He spends a lot of time combing through things in his head. Stoic and brooding one might say. He tends to be fairly cold outwardly, but there is a hive of activity going on in that headcase of his. He's not shy, as such, but one might label it as some sort of social awkwardness.

VOLATILE
"Well, yes, I'd love t-- WHAT THE ACTUAL F*** DID YOU JUST SAY?"

Jekyll and Hyde complex, much? Yes, ok. He might be fairly inward as far as personalities go, but that isn't to say that he doesn't have his moments of outright explosive attitude. There are occasions where someone has pushed him just that fraction too far, and they have been left in a mushroom cloud of destruction left by Ruaridh's special brand of volatility. He does, however, have the uncanny ability to control this pyroclastic flow of frustration and angst, and can channel it into something other than physical aggression (unless it is, indeed, warranted... If so, you had better start looking skyward).

WITTY
"I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." - Douglas Adams

Perhaps we're selling him short here. Now, whilst he might be one of the 'jar-head infantry boys', and as such has more than likely earned himself the reputation for having one if not several screws loose, he is witty. He really does have his moments of humor that border brilliance. His intelligence really does shine through at times, even though those times tend to be few and far between simply due to the very nature of the beast.

SARCASTIC
"I like long walks, especially when they are taken by people who annoy me." - Fred Allen

Sarcasm is the lowest form of wit, which sort of contradicts the previous point. In this case, however, it is merely used to illustrate his cynicism. He's not the sunniest of personalities, but whilst this might be the case, he does try to render his otherwise monochromatic existence with a little drip of saccharine sarcasm every now and again. It just adds a little sunshine to an otherwise grey day, albeit somewhat a similar comparison between actual sunlight and false neon strip lighting. He does tend to pick and choose his moments excellently, as well, meaning that a lot of the sarcasm he uses is often jarring, biting and sometimes down right aggressive.

CHARISMATIC
"Lack of charmisma can be fatal" - Jenny Holzer

For all his faults, he is charming. He really can shine when he needs to. Despite his normal lack of words, and stark stoicism, this boy really does have a silver tongue and he knows how to use it. Whilst he's talking you into something, he's talking himself out of a situation without you even realizing it. He could sell sand to the desert without trying. Though he is a man of few words, he picks and chooses them and knits them together well enough to be embroidered in your memory, without you even knowing.

STALWART

He's a tough old bean. A strong and valiant creature who tends to put himself in the firing line without a second thought. This is more than likely one of the reasons he is so useful. He might be physically tough, but he is also mentally strong. He knows his own mind, and is very rarely swayed.

STEADFAST

Yes, he is loyal to a fault. This isn't something he shows outwardly at all, in fact his background suggests that really the only individual you can rely on is yourself, as taught to him by his mother. Despite this, he can't help but quietly feel an allegiance to his herd and all that they stand for. Ok so some things that they do might be disagreeable to most, and yes they fight a lot, and squabble, and pillage and so on and so forth, but its home. They are a dysfunctional brotherhood family type thing, and he is more than happy to stick by them. Likewise, if you find yourself able to get past the reinforced carbon steel shutters, you too might be privy to some fabled loyalty.

OBSTINATE

Intrinsically, eternally, obstinate. He really is the epitome of 'stubborn old goat'. It is his way or the highway. To be honest, when he's decided he's right he'll make every effort to prove you wrong even if you're the one who is, in actual fact, right. He's honestly that stubborn. He'll rarely admit he's wrong, which has got him into many a sticky situation in the past. It isn't something that seems to have diluted with age, either. It just seems to get worse and worse with years. A mule has nothing on him.

MELLOW

All being said, he is a laid-back guy. Gentle and 90% of the time locked in his own thoughts, with his mouth zipped right up. He's chilled out. He thinks things through. He's not a 'flower child' as such, but he is easy-going most of the time which makes him a fairly easy personality to rub along with.

 

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History

PRE-BIRTH

Wren was one of those infamous Lone mares. One of the free spirits who were, conversely, ever trapped by their desire and need to be constantly on the move. Never remaining in one place for longer than deemed necessary. She relied on pure instinct, and on her somewhat shrewd, cold exterior to get her through. She had little in the way of blood, or breeding and she had never been tied to a herd, nor had her heart ensnared. In her mind, whilst she still had her heart she had a grip on her sanity. Mares had a funny way of losing their faculties when stallions were around, and as far as she was concerned it was better to keep her wits about her. Not that entertaining the advances of one or two stallions was against her ideals, she often flirted, it was just that she was perhaps somewhat choosy when it came to a bed partner. After so many failed attempts at having foals in the past, it was unsurprising. To be honest, it wasn't something she really found herself dwelling on for very long, anyhow. Should she cross the path of the right stallion, she would consider the situation should it ever happen. 

She would spend a good amount of time traversing the lands of The Eastern Isle. The marshes were to be her favoured place to linger, and if any place were to be 'home' it would be there, or the foothills of the mountains. Now, being a somewhat insular creature, and her years perhaps not on her side, as the summer months drew in, and the days grew longer, she found herself mourning the notion of a child. Mourning simply because, the very idea took her by surprise. She had lost so many, and so many had not taken that she had come to the conclusion that she was a barren mare, undeserving of a child. That she was too hostile an environment to nurture a fragile infant. Would it ever happen to one so set on being alone?

So, it was by sheer chance that the fabled 'Mr Right' appeared one misty morning, like a spectre through the rolling, roiling fog. She recalled the name Tyne, though being certain on this was a challenge she would later decline. Their union would be short, but nothing less than a work of fiction. Ships that pass in the night, leaving Wren with the burden of carrying his child. She would appear to be bothered by it, sullen and altogether disapproving- but really all she wanted to do was thank him. Being a mother was something that, at the age she was, she thought would never come to pass. 

Wren counted herself... Lucky?

FOAL-HOOD

However lucky she felt, or however enamoured with the idea of having a child she may have been despite herself would soon evaporate. She gave birth to Ruaridh on a particularly bitter morning. T here had been an uncharacteristic amount of frost over night. She had been overdue, and the birth had been nothing but a catastrophe from the very start of labour. 

The bachelor herd had got wind if her movements through the territory, and whilst she had made it to the other side safely, they seemed to have other ideas. Their normal corralling attempts, she had managed to avoid, being all too canny to their patterns, but with the extra weight of a foal on board, she found herself struggling. Now whether it was the fright, or the endless left and right dodge coupled with bucking and lunging, her abdomen flinched. By this point, she was bordering exhausted, and the telltale twinges of labour had started to kick in even as she was making a quick exit stage left. It was paramount that she shook off her pursuers, there would be nothing worse than being captured and having her child endure that unruly bunch. She managed to dodge the males, goodness only knows how, and exploded into a thicket where she managed to settle and lay low enough to gather her breath, and her thoughts.

Now if that wasn't enough, she had to keep her lips firmly sealed whilst she strained to bring her child into the world. She had been surrounded, footfalls and gruff voices reached high above the rustling of leaves. It would only be moments before they would get bored of searching. Such is the attention span of a male.

The group disbanded, and their voices became more and more distant just as Wren managed to deliver. Ruaridh struggled to lift his head, but once he managed he bumped noses with his mother.

Now whilst Wren had managed to save her son from capture at this point in his life, it wouldn't last. His younger years were spent in simple and nomadic existence. Roaming wild, and wondering free. His mother taught him everything, from plant life to tracking, from fighting tactics to etiquette. He would be a rounded individual, but one who would forever remain introverted. One of the main issues of a loner life, is the solitude. It doesn't overly prepare one for conversation, or social contact.

He learned to steer clear of the land bridges, and remained pretty much solely in The Eastern Isle, around the areas his mother knew and loved.

ADOLESCENCE

As a gangly legged teenager, Wren truly had her figurative hands full. Ruaridh had the habit of disappearing off, and coming back beaten black and blue. He really had become one to pick a fight, but it would be something he'd grow out of. Really it was the disappearing acts he was prone to that were getting to his mother. He'd be there, and the next minute... Gone. He really gave it the big 'I am', mostly to please, and to protect his mother. 

He wasn't a bad boy. Just overly curious, and curiosity killed the cat after all. It would be as he hit sixteen years, that his father would appear back on the scene. Now, this of course rattled his mother somewhat. Having not seen Tyne since their son's conception, it struck her as somewhat strange that he would track her down. 

Now Tyne was a bachelor. Not born into the herd, but part of the herd nonetheless. He hadn't mentioned it, and without the characteristic mark Wren would never have known. He had been following the pair since the birth of their son, and indeed had been part of the party making attempts at wrangling her. This angered Wren, but she let him continue, whilst Ruaridh asked continuous questions in quick succession. 

The long and the short if it was, that Tyne had come to 'collect'. Ruaridh had no idea that his father meant him. Looking back on it now, he can almost understand. Of course, leaving his mother wasn't an option, and Ruaridh struck a bargain with his father. Rather than fight, or have his mother captured, he'd follow his father once he reached twenty years of age. Up until that point, he'd stay with his mother. Tyne accepted, but with some reluctance. You see, what Ruaridh didn't know was the penance that would have to be paid for the non-return of Tyne's firstborn son. The price was blood.

Ruaridh stayed with his mother. It has never been a regret of his, despite what happened to his father as a result.

ADULTHOOD

Ruaridh joined the bachelors, true to his word, at the age of twenty. There was a rigorous training schedule, and induction. He, however, was permitted to decline 'the mark' due to his birth being extra to the herd. He does feel that without the mark others in the group are sceptical of his loyalties. He may reconsider his decision at a later date.

He hasn't seen or heard from his mother for ten years now. His decision to follow through with the promise he made to his father didn't sit well with her. He knows she is around, and alive. She leaves her calling card behind her: a rodent skull, or bird skull with a wild flower, or semi-precious stone. It is the only communication he has had with her over the last decade.

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Tasty Tidbits

- Ruaridh has a lot of respect for the mares in the herd, and mares in general. It is a deep seated respect that he doesn't shout about but he really does admire their strength. They put up with more than he could ever tolerate, at least that is the way he sees it.
- His scars may appear few and far between, but he has been in his fair share of scrapes.
- Tends to spend a lot of time on his own, and is prone to muttering darkly to himself. He is completely aware of the fact that it makes him look a little cuckoo.
- Tyne, Ruaridh's father, was beaten and left for dead. He leads a solitary life, unbeknownst to his son. He watches from a distance... Creepy.
- Since the war, has come to realize that there are a few individuals who have crept into his life that he can't do without. Namely one, but he hasn't the courage to say anything at present.
- More will be added as he divulges...

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Ruaridh and Character artwork by hypnocampus. Please do not copy, trace, heavily reference or claim as your own work. Thank you.