|Name Significance||Nature Goddess|
|Date of Birth||June 28, 2005|
|Age||> 4 years|
|Current pack||Phoenix Valley|
|Joining date||January 20, 2010|
|Most Recent Rank||Genus|
Cerridwyn is a current member of Phoenix Valley. She originally descends from a tribe in Ireland, and is distinguished by her thick Irish accent.
Cerridwyn does not know who her parents were, nor whether she has any siblings or family of any other sort. She was found as a very small puppy by a kind tribe in a backwater, isolated part of Ireland, and given the name of Aoife. This tribe took her in, despite her very obviously not being pure-blood wolf. None of this tribe were shifters; they had never even heard of such a thing, and lived exactly the same as wolves had done for hundreds of years.
She was raised by pretty much everyone in the tribe, calling no one wolf mother or father. All of the wolves were her mother or father, all of the puppies her sisters and brothers. She was brought up lovingly, instilled with good values and a deep belief in the tribe's patron goddess, Danu.
Aoife was well aware that she was different from her family; that much could be seen just by looking at her. She had no idea, however, just how different. Unbeknownst to either her or her adopted tribe, Luperci blood ran strong through her veins on both sides. This remained the case until Aoife's eighth full moon, when the natural urge to shift hit her full force. She had no idea what was wrong with her; at first she thought she was going mad, and then actually thought she was dying. Her family could only stand by, watching in terror, as this terrible transformation took hold of their beloved sister and daughter.
It spoke well for such an unsophisticated tribe that they did not immediately outcast her, believing her possessed by demons or an incarnation of an actual evil spirit. Instead, once her transformation was complete and it was decided that she had not died as a result, the tribe decided that she was actually a gift from the goddess, bestowed with this divine power to shape-change. Their goddess Cerridwyn was a shape-changer, after all. It was at this point that the tribe's spiritual leader approached Aoife and proclaimed that from then on, she was to be known as Cerridwyn, in name if not in actuality. The shaman then took the wolf-dog under his metaphorical wing, and began to train her for the day when she would take his place.
Cerridwyn, at first terrified of all that had transpired, soon began to love learning of the many facets of her tribe's religion, from history to healing to diplomacy. She trained until shortly before her third birthday, when her mentor passed on quietly in his sleep and she became the one that the tribe looked to for their spiritual needs.
The role fit her like a glove; she cared deeply for her family and it pleased her to be able to help them so. However, after some time, such adoration from her tribe began to go to her head. She went from being pleased and slightly embarrassed when the wolves bowed their heads to her and muttered, "Praise Danu," to expecting such deference and becoming flustered when it wasn't offered (it rarely wasn't). She was a chosen of Danu, wasn't she? She deserved to be treated better, to have first choice of meat at a kill, to be in the very center of the huddle on cold nights.
Her tribe soon became exasperated with such behavior, and fear, in some cases a black hatred, began to border that exasperation when Cerridwyn would rant and rave and tantrum when her wants went unmet, even threatening to withhold a blessing or turn Danu against a tribe member.
About a year after the mixed-breed pup had become a revered shaman, disaster hit the tribe. There was no prey to be found in the lands (Cerridwyn's new-found thumbs and creation of crude weapons, increasing the tribe's kill ratio, had seen to that), and rain was scarcely seen. The creek-beds were drying up, and the grasses were turning brown. No matter how many sacrifices were made or rituals were held in Danu's honor, the conditions did not let up. The very young and very old began to die off. This was something that had not happened in the tribe's long memory; they had always held a delicate balance with the land, and something had disrupted it.
It wasn't long before suspicious eyes began turning in Cerridwyn's direction; she was, after all, the only real change the tribe had seen in hundreds of years. Whispers began to circulate, and whispers became mutters, and mutters became conversation and then shouts of accusation. Hadn't she threatened to curse them, to turn Danu against them? She was quite powerful, anyone could see that. She must be gotten rid of, even if it angered Danu; after all, what worse could the goddess do to them than a slow death by starvation and dehydration?
They were a kind tribe, and so they did not kill her. Instead, a few brave members pounced on her while she slept, tying her hands, feet, and snout. (Quite a feat, with no hands to help, but they managed though their knots were clumsy.) They placed her on the raft she herself had created for fishing excursions (after all, with no thumbs, what would they do with such a thing?), piled enough meat to last a couple of days, as well as Cerridwyn's fishing tools and water skins. Across the raft from her they placed a sharp stone, which would take her some time to maneuver rightly to release herself.
There were many dry eyes and only a few tears shed as she was pushed out to sea. As a final disgrace, the tribe's next most prominent member bid her farewell, not as Cerridwyn, but as Aoife.
She had much time to think about what had happened while she drifted, and saw how she had gone bad. Almost rotten to the core, had the tribe not intervened. She vowed to never let such an ugly side take control again, and vowed to Danu that, if only the goddess would see her through this, she would be a faithful worshipper and never again treat anyone in such a manner. She had, in short, learned her lesson.
Another day at sea and she would have died of thirst. However, a storm with high winds hit just at the right moment, sending her flying into the coastline of the Phoenix Valley borders, miraculously not killing her. After a strenuous climb up a cliff face, she was met by member of the Phoenix Valley pack, and so her story continues.
Cerridwyn is a wolf/rough collie hybrid. Her wolf blood is not immediately evident; at first glance, she looks simply like a rough collie. Upon closer examination, though, one will find that her wolf form is a bit stockier that a collie might be, and her hair not quite as long. Her head is not quite as flat and streamlined as one would find in a collie, and her ears are a bit fuller. She does, however, retain a full, layered coat, a plumed tail, and hair on the back of her forelegs.
In her Optime form, she is tall and willowy, not quite as muscular as many luperci might be. She does not wear clothes, but often has beads or feathers woven in various places in her coat, and consistently wears a plain, leather band around her upper left arm.
Cerridwyn has the traditional tri-color marking of a collie. She has a face mask of charcoal grey, with tan "eyebrows" and ear tips. The grey transitions to white around her muzzle and tan along her cheek ruffs, and her cheek ruffs transition to a white band around her neck which trails down to her chest, belly, and legs, to the underside of her tail. She has a white tailtip. This white is trimmed in tan along her sides, neck, chest and back legs, with a saddle of the same charcoal grey of her face.
Her left ear consistently flops over whereas her right one stands straight, and her eyes are a warm, chocolate brown.