Wren

Not all dragons are suited for leadership. Wren sure isn't, as he discovered after being suddenly handed control of an assassin's guild after his friend took out the old guildmaster. Trying to lead a bunch of dragons was more difficult than shooting blindfolded. He doesn't dwell on it too much. Really, he's just happy he managed to survive the whole situation. If only because he was nowhere near the hideout when the situation collapsed. Literally. Infighting and reckless use of combat spells collapsed the headquarters of the Goetic Claw, destabilized as it was by a team of investigators trying to tunnel around the wards. He's pretty sure everyone involved was crushed. Emotionally. The Claw are a resourceful sort, Wren thinks many of them probably escaped to other parts of Sornieth.

Wren survived because he was busy being lost underwater. He'd stolen an experimental submarine and a load of broadcast equipment in a final attempt to monitor clans who may have wanted to destroy the Claw so that he could strike first. Should've stolen an instruction manual though, because he couldn't figure out how to turn the lights on. Awful sun and its light not reaching the depths of the ocean. He figured out how to get everything working just in time to intercept a broadcast about how their Starwood hideout had caved in. Unfortunate, because all his stuff was there, but at least he was pretty sure he wasn't guildmaster anymore.

Sonja had got him into this mess, so he thought it was about time to check in on her to see if she had a way out of it. Turns out she wasn't very had to find using all the equipment he'd stolen. After she'd finished laughing at him for a while, she suggested he hang around her new clan in the southern Isles. A lot of clan members were criminals or otherwise in hiding from someone, and could probably use someone with his connections. Also that submarine was really cool and she wanted a ride in it. That made sense to him, and so Wren's Submersible Surveying, Spying, and Safari Service was born.

While nominally Wren provides an underwater touring service, only the most insistent spirals and fae will ever get to take advantage of it. He doesn't trust anyone not to damage the equipment, and there's enough of it that there's room for maybe three Wrens at most, so larger dragons are right out. Niall can count himself among the lucky few who do get to be passengers, as the geologist does need to occasionally check that nothing unusual is happening to the ground on the seafloor. There've been underwater volcanos off the cost of Fire territory, and Wren would agree it's best to make sure one doesn't happen here. Or that everyone knows to run away if one does. Niall seems to have a plan for such an occurrence, but Wren can't imagine what a single fae could do against the unstable forces of the planet. Though with how disappointed Niall looks sometimes (Wren is well-trained at reading fae crests), Wren suspects he'd rather start an eruption than stop one.

More commonly, Wren acts as a contact for dragons living in the Astrolodome who need the services of Clan _______. Of the sort that might not be permitted in the Dome, usually. Whether it's unusual magics or dangerous objects, Wren will connect a buyer with a clanmate who can provide. More often than he'd like, that's Corathan. Which makes sense, as the coatl is a smuggler, but Wren would rather look at Corathan's smug face as little as possible. So he doesn't, preferring to speak with him from a transmitter on his submarine.

Wren sells poisons on the side, extracted from the flesh of his left arm. He was a specialist in poisons back as a member of the Claw, preferring to kill with a poison tipped arrow. But an accidental spill of an experimental poison warped the flesh of his left arm, causing the flesh to bubble and ruining the aim of the left-handed dragon. It also meant the original poison was a failure, as it didn't manage to kill him at all. Whatever's going on in his arm is far more lethal, possibly even to Wren himself if he was to let it spread. He's had no urge to try his own poison though. He keeps that arm armoured whenever possible, as the twisted flesh experiences excruciating pain when exposed to sunlight. And also because he doesn't want to accidentally drip poison on everyone he speaks to. And thirdly because it makes it harder for Sonja to take samples without asking first. It hasn't stopped her, but at least she has to work for it now.

To Wren's surprise, one of his old targets happened to be living in Clan ______ — a nocturne named Jubei. Wren definitely remembers him, though not why someone wanted him assassinated. He had always tried not to worry about that sort of thing. But he sure does remember that Jubei was apparently immune to every poison Wren threw at him. And he threw a lot. By the time Jubei caught Wren, threw him to the ground, and sent him back to the Claw in shame, Jubei had more arrow wounds in him than Wren had arrows. Wren learned not to collect his arrows until the target was either much farther away or definitely dead after that incident.