Spoiler: Theme Full Name : Finnagán Mac Éamonn Uí Cinén hÁghnaill Age : Forty five Gender : Male Race : Ériunin Ailor (Woaden Lineage) Faith : The Draoidh Feya Sexuality : Ériu-Innis Preferred Weapon : Arming-sword (45 + 5 = 50 + 10 hobby) Squad Tactic Skill 25 points + lineage | Ériu-Innis be a very funny place, it's a strange and a troubled land. And where there is strangeness and trouble, there's a means to make coin and reputation. Finnagán, over the course of his life has developed the unique skill of getting similar minded men to do as he wishes. A crude statement on it's own, but when factoring in the planning, preparation and training required for more complex tasks- it demonstrates a means to refine human resources to solve any issue. Necklace needs stolen? He's your thief. Castle needs mapped? He's your scout. High ranking officer needs murdered? He's your assassin. Fast Blade Combat Skill 7 points | A large personality boasts a large sword, but what happens when a large personality wants to get seven stabs in before you've drawn your longsword? It may not be the truest form of combat or even the most honorable, but a dagger in the back or short-sword through the gap in plate can mean the difference between walking away with coin or getting carried in a coffin. Diplomatic Case Skill 18 points | Sometimes words work better than a shortsword. Operating as an illegal 'businessman' around the homelands had it's advantages. Plenty of politics among us outlaws, negotiations with the law. Good experience for any gent trying to make a name for himself in politics. Visual Arts 10 hobby-points | Not everything needs to be business, business, business now does it? Sometimes a man just needs to sit in a comfy chair and ponder over his success- perhaps get that pretty view half a mile up a mountain painted. But suppose you use that spot to scout out merchant's on the road- perhaps you don't trust a painter to know of that, then best get learning how to paint yourself. Never trust fucking painters. Body Stat Body Stat : 10 Fast blades combat skill = 10 Body Type : Athletic Body Fat : Low Body Fat Languages Ériunnach | Native tongue | Born and raised- even learned how to read and write it to a decent degree, more than I can say for many of the poor bastards in my position- only the druids are truly fluent in the tongue, knowing all those fancy history words and the like. But the ability to read and speak a fairly unspoken tongue has it's benefits, talking behind someone's back right in front of them, impressing some travelling scholar, all good times. Common | Second Tongue | Now this was a challenge, but a universal language? I could hardly pass it up, it's too useful. That being said a man once put a page down in front of me and I couldn't make heads or tails of the writing- the posh twats can read and write like it was hammered into their heads at birth- I wasn't quite so lucky now was I? Why is Finnagán in Regalia? Something about that damned fable- you know the one, fish in a small pond jumps to a larger pond and gets fucked. Aye that's the one. Well it's something like that, except i'm not keen on getting myself killed am I? Ériu-Innis has a lot going for it I wont lie- but the capital of the Regalian Empire, seat of the royal family and other blue-bloods. Well there's more than money involved in that equation, I've seen enough gold for ten lifetimes, but never had I seen true power, not like there is here. How was Finnagán brought up? Depends who's asking, in truth I was born among a backstreet in Tír na nÍriel, not the fanciest of accommodation I'm aware. But I suppose that kind of hardship really makes the man. You learn a lot more when your next meal depends on how well you can beg, steal or barter- a lot more than you would any damned book. Experience is the truest tutor in this world, knowing that young, surviving on your own as early as possible was the best thing for me. That being said, I think i'd have fonder memories of my parents if I wasn't put to the belt four times a week, damned bastards. What are Finnagán's ambitions? What's anyone's ambition? Coin, power and a decent standing when I die. You can never trust a stranger, but you can always trust a stranger's ambition. They're out for themselves, out for some personal-goal that ultimately strides from themselves. Once you understand that you can exploit it, or at least align it with your own ambition so you both get something from it. Coin comes from knowing the right people, power comes from getting close to them. Decent standing when I die? Well that depends how decent a job I do on my end isn't it? Eye Colour : Hazel Hair Colour : Dark brown Hair Style : Trimmed and shaved as short as it can be before being considered bald, if he's travelling it tends to grow quickly and obviously, though when isolated to one location for a long time it will be cut almost daily. Skin Colour : Rather pale Clothing : A dark green tunic- a typical of Ériunin fashion, fixed to his waist with a black boar-leather belt and a bronze buckle. His boots again would be a hearty boar-leather, good for travelling with steel caps concealed at the front and on the heel. Across his left shoulder he'd be wearing a bluer cape, signifying his false-rank as a merchant among Ériunin society. Some black leather pouches could be found tucked along the interior of his cape and on his belt, alongside his leather dagger and arming-sword sheath. Height : 5'9" Alignment Neutral Evil | Morality is a funny thing. One good action will give you a few nods and a pat on the back- soon to be forgotten. But wrong someone once and they'll remember for as long as they live. This little effect means many people see me as a crude prick- evil was tossed around a few times. For what? All any man cares about is himself, and extensions of himself, his property, his family, his finance. I'm no different, just honest about it. While other men will allow others to walk over them, steal their money- i'll stand by and do it right back, or before someone else does it to me. What's wrong with taking the initiative? Personality Type The Commander | Commanders are natural-born leaders. People with this personality type embody the gifts of charisma and confidence, and project authority in a way that draws crowds together behind a common goal. However, Commanders are also characterized by an often ruthless level of rationality, using their drive, determination and sharp minds to achieve whatever end they’ve set for themselves. Perhaps it is best that they make up only three percent of the population, lest they overwhelm the more timid and sensitive personality types that make up much of the rest of the world – but we have Commanders to thank for many of the businesses and institutions we take for granted every day. Religion The Draoidh Feya | 2/10 | When you live as I do, your mind dwells on more realistic matters than those of the sky, heavens or whatever in the world else made us. I'd be much more keen to reserve the mental energy of such questions for finding my next meal, or solving practical problems. This strain from religion has it's up-sides, I've no issue pretending to be a good little Unionist if the company is right. When it comes down to it, if I was put up to the gallows to be killed, i'd take my chances praying to The Uilemháthair before any damned 'Spirit', that's for sure. Backstory Born among the bastards and broken things in some back ally in Tír na nÍriel, Ériu-Innis. Finnagán knew little of either his mother or father- something he could never piece together as his earliest memories now originate from when he was around five. In truth it was likely his mother was some whore or something similar- with a drunk of a father as so many other children in his native land were born to. His early years were spent around others his age, sleeping in back-allys, begging or stealing food and getting into the occasional fight. There was little time for anything but surviving. It was this early experience of hardship that trust upon him a great greed and the moral ambiguity and ruthlessness to seize what he wanted by all means, he'd had little time nor experience to understand morality or appreciate honor. As he grow older- into his teenage years life would hardly change. While others his age were finding work on farms or the mines in the south, Finnagán kept company with the thieves and bandits on the outskirts of his city, favoring the fast and precise arming-sword alongside a reliable dagger. Unlike many of his kin- he'd developed particularly adept eyesight, especially in the dark- making him a fantastic asset for the lucrative bandit jobs in the new Regalian-controlled northern part of Ériu-Innis. As he turned twenty the experience he'd gained from these bands had allowed him to lead and establish his own branch, now he was raking in the profits as he ordered small bands of men to effectively seize and kill traders on the road. His later life would continue in this fashion, leading men around the country-side all of whom would come to be known as The Fién- another band of cut-throats like so many other around the country. One one occasion seeing Finnagán work alongside minor nobility, scouting out hill-forts and supply wagons. To foreign traders he was a thief, stealing pricey artifacts for a cut of the fence- often from the same nobility he would serve pervious. Then when times were truly hard he would work for himself, him and other small bands infiltrating merchant camps and liberating coin and food. While he himself was never arrested, even after the many years he spent doing this- the same could not be said for his men, eventually word would reach the establishments of Ériu-Innis- one of his many fake-names often fairing bountiful rewards, but regardless they would still have a facial description, causing the man to often go into hiding for up to a year at a time as the local militia's targeted other gangs and bandit-groups in the country. Then came his most recent development. While banditing in Ériu-Innis was profitable, the down-sides of having to go into hiding every few years would negate any long-terms riches or profits. The recent crackdowns on bandit groups would cast rare-fear down his spine. He believed his services and experiences leading small batches of men to do daring tasks would be quite the profitable skill to sell off. What better buyers than the wealthy filth of Regalia? He'd spend the long voyage from his home-port practicing his mannerisms. Getting caught up on the history and the like. When he arrived upon the docks of Regalia he was just another migrant, another faceless man bursting with greed, ambition and a ruthless desire to progress from his origins of filth and poverty.
