Post by agni on Dec 12, 2010 1:09:58 GMT -5
"The world ended... Didn't you get the memo?"
Amy
Amy
Your Name: Alyssa
How many years roleplaying?: 6-7
"You don't know what it's like out there. You may think you do but you don't. It's only a matter of time."
- Rick Grimes[/center]
Character Name: Finnegan "Finny" McKenna
Age: 32
Hometown: Old Brownsboro Place, Kentucky
Current Location: Roaming around Texas with Rory.
Bio: Finny's parents were from ireland, but they moved to the states and settled in Kentucky just before Finny was born. He grew up on his parent's farm with his older brother, Rory. Growing up on a farm taught him to appreciate what he had and that everything needed to be earned through hard work. Most of the major holidays were spent in Ireland with his grandparents at their little fishing cottage in Cork. Finny loved Ireland; he loved the atmosphere, the people and his grandparents.
His grandparents were wealthy people, but they had worked hard to earn their small fortune and gave none of it to their kids because they believed in working to earn your lot. This was something Finny hated as a child, but once he grew up he learned to understand and admire their decision. Ciaran McKenna (grandfather) was a pilot for the IRA and had an old plane which he taught Finny to fly. Finny loved Ireland so much that he once propositioned his parents to let him stay with his granma and granda and they gave him an ultimatium: once he finished high school, if the offer still stood, he could move out to Ireland. Finny naturally assumed his brother would be coming with him and be happy to do so.
But the summer before his Junior year, the first year Rory and Finny were allowed to visit their grandparents by themselves, tragedy struck. They found Ciaran and Siobahn McKenna murdered in their own home, along with their dog. Something inside of him had cracked and he withdrew from his friends and family. Finny became violent and bitter and only his brother's intervention could calm him. He was nearly a genius, but he dropped out of high school, no longer caring about classes and with no desire to share his knowledge and talents with undeserving people. After his grandparents' murder, he could find little in humanity that didn't disgust him entirely. He claimed his granparent's cottage for himself, though he could rarely bring himself to visit. Years later, he makes a point to visit the cottage at least once a year, even now.
After dropping out of school, Finny left the farm and started travelling. He stayed in Ireland for a few years, but became restless and haunted by the ghosts of his grandparent's memories and eventually the little cottage he had grown up loving became too painful to live in. He travelled with his brother, finding odd jobs as they went and eventually they made their way back to the states. When news of the outbreak struck, they were just north of Atlanta. Finny hadn't heard from his parents since the walkers arrived and now he and Rory are fighting their way back to Kentucky to help them, if they're not too later already.
Finny has always been fiercely protective of Rory. Despite the fact that Rory is his older brother, Finny most often found himself in the role of Rory's protector, standing up for him when he wouldn't stand up for himself. They understand each other and share the horrorific event of wittnessing their grandparent's deaths. Rory is the only one who truly understands why Finny sometimes acts the way he does, and knows how to pull him out of it.
Likes: Ireland, grandparent's house in Cork, Guiness, fast cars, Hamlet, dogs, planes, flying.
Dislikes: Humanity, walkers, government, standardised religion, preachy people, pretentious people., hypocrits, people who say they're helpless when they're not, naive people, slackers.
Strengths: Stands up for what he believes in, Isn't afraid to speak his mind, intelligence (nearly a certifiable genius), can fly planes, (self-assumed) Independence.
Weaknesses: Dependent on others but doesn't admit it, has a childhood fear of zombies, hot-headed, stubborn, people that remind him of himself, hurt animals or kids, no faith in humanity.
Anything Else? ...er, I really need to watch this show. Nothing says holiday cheer like a room full of zombies! erm, anyway. Finny quotes Hamlet randomly. (seriously, he was partly inspired by Hamlet. I thought it'd be funny to have a nut who busted out the shakespeare quotes.) He also has an irish accent, yum.
Roleplay Sample:
See Peter? People misplace important things all the time."
Neal shared a secret smile, his blue eyes twinkling. He knew that look and he knew the feeling: he'd 'misplaced' quite a few stolen artifacts over the years himself. He had caches all over the US and no one else knew the location of all of them but himself. He had trusted Mozzie with the location of some and mislead him purposely on the location of others. It was nothing personal - he had done the same thing with Kate - just a necessary precaution. Perhaps it was time to take inventory on what was left; it had been a long time since he'd taken stock of everything he'd stolen. He bit down on a growing grin as Temperance teased Peter about the artifact's 'missing' status. Peter wouldn't be fooled by her act; he was smarter than that. He'd been dealing with Neal for months now, and if Neal couldn't pull that line off and get away with it, there was no chance Temperance would, either. At least, he hoped not.
“In hindsight, not my best decision," Neal suppressed a cringe at her laughter; the fact that she could laugh about trying to send half of Manhattan (and the people in it) sky high oddly enough did not sit well with him. “The feds had a real cow over that stunt for some reason which escapes me.” His blue eyes narrowed warily. She continued to sound amused, the way he acted after a particularly spectacular success, only she wasn't talking about larceny or bond forgery; she was taking about people, laughing their lives off like they were nothing. The icy sting of fear settled between his shoulder blades like a frost clinging stubbornly to his back, a chilling reminder that this beautiful woman was a black widow spider; a deadly killer with no remorse.
Neal turned back to glance at Peter, a pointed look asking silently what the hell he was thinking when he agreed to take the Huntress under his wing for the job.
“I think they still have six months of paperwork left to do over there from the incident.”
Neal recognised that impish grin from the papers. But the papers hadn't prepared him for this; the papers had stated the facts and given a face to pair them with and while it had been disconcerting enough then to read the articles and try to connect them to that pretty face, it was another thing entirely to be standing in front of the same woman in the flesh, staring into the twinkling eyes and disarming smile of a true, cold-blooded killer. It was hard, too, to even use that term when staring at her. Temperance didn't look like a killer. Sure, there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, a wicked amusement in her smile, but nothing that revealed her for what she truly was, except perhaps the subtle grace with which she moved. It was a fluid transition of movement that raised red flags in Neal's mind, red flags with bold warnings that read DANGER and CAUTION.
Like a jungle cat stalking its prey, Neal thought and found the comparison ironic, considering the Huntress' tamer hobby. Neal could slip in and out of shadows like a pro, he had mastered the art of moving undetected through a crowd, being seen only when he wanted to be seen, and by whom. That predatory grace was what drew him in; reminded him that this was a creature to be admired from afar, and yet his instincts never did outwit his impulses. He thrived on challenge, upped the stakes for a living and decided then and there that this was just another challenge to be met. The stakes? Couldn't get any higher. But that was the way Neal liked it.
So when she moved in, his emotions took control, shoving the protesting voice of self-preservation into the dark abyss as his eyes roamed up and down her body, admiring a fellow predator and sizing up the competition - and a little less-than-professional appreciation never hurt, either. Whoever said you couldn't mix business and pleasure? His rigid wariness thawed into familiar self-confidence, a sly grin slipping seamlessly onto his lips as she slipped onto the chair, her knee braced rather provocatively between his as her hand slipped something into his pocket. Neal heard the soft jingle of keys as Temperance exchanged them for the bill in his pocket. Her words echoed in his ear and Neal found himself grinning.
His eyes went pointedly to the hand she had dropped the keys from, just in time to catch her slip the coveted money into her dress. His smile widened in amusement. The game was on.
"A Franklin for a Lambo?" he asked, quiet enough for her ears only, before pausing in mock-thought. His grin brightened to a mega-watt smile. "Sounds fair," He said a little louder, and shrugged, hand casually brushing the pocket of his pants and coming up with the keys between his fingers. He spun them once around his finger and caught them in his hand, standing in the same instant. Neal started for the door without breaking his stride, tossing a boyish grin over his shoulder at the agent and the fellow thief as he stepped through the door and disappeared.
Neal shared a secret smile, his blue eyes twinkling. He knew that look and he knew the feeling: he'd 'misplaced' quite a few stolen artifacts over the years himself. He had caches all over the US and no one else knew the location of all of them but himself. He had trusted Mozzie with the location of some and mislead him purposely on the location of others. It was nothing personal - he had done the same thing with Kate - just a necessary precaution. Perhaps it was time to take inventory on what was left; it had been a long time since he'd taken stock of everything he'd stolen. He bit down on a growing grin as Temperance teased Peter about the artifact's 'missing' status. Peter wouldn't be fooled by her act; he was smarter than that. He'd been dealing with Neal for months now, and if Neal couldn't pull that line off and get away with it, there was no chance Temperance would, either. At least, he hoped not.
“In hindsight, not my best decision," Neal suppressed a cringe at her laughter; the fact that she could laugh about trying to send half of Manhattan (and the people in it) sky high oddly enough did not sit well with him. “The feds had a real cow over that stunt for some reason which escapes me.” His blue eyes narrowed warily. She continued to sound amused, the way he acted after a particularly spectacular success, only she wasn't talking about larceny or bond forgery; she was taking about people, laughing their lives off like they were nothing. The icy sting of fear settled between his shoulder blades like a frost clinging stubbornly to his back, a chilling reminder that this beautiful woman was a black widow spider; a deadly killer with no remorse.
Neal turned back to glance at Peter, a pointed look asking silently what the hell he was thinking when he agreed to take the Huntress under his wing for the job.
“I think they still have six months of paperwork left to do over there from the incident.”
Neal recognised that impish grin from the papers. But the papers hadn't prepared him for this; the papers had stated the facts and given a face to pair them with and while it had been disconcerting enough then to read the articles and try to connect them to that pretty face, it was another thing entirely to be standing in front of the same woman in the flesh, staring into the twinkling eyes and disarming smile of a true, cold-blooded killer. It was hard, too, to even use that term when staring at her. Temperance didn't look like a killer. Sure, there was a sparkle of mischief in her eyes, a wicked amusement in her smile, but nothing that revealed her for what she truly was, except perhaps the subtle grace with which she moved. It was a fluid transition of movement that raised red flags in Neal's mind, red flags with bold warnings that read DANGER and CAUTION.
Like a jungle cat stalking its prey, Neal thought and found the comparison ironic, considering the Huntress' tamer hobby. Neal could slip in and out of shadows like a pro, he had mastered the art of moving undetected through a crowd, being seen only when he wanted to be seen, and by whom. That predatory grace was what drew him in; reminded him that this was a creature to be admired from afar, and yet his instincts never did outwit his impulses. He thrived on challenge, upped the stakes for a living and decided then and there that this was just another challenge to be met. The stakes? Couldn't get any higher. But that was the way Neal liked it.
So when she moved in, his emotions took control, shoving the protesting voice of self-preservation into the dark abyss as his eyes roamed up and down her body, admiring a fellow predator and sizing up the competition - and a little less-than-professional appreciation never hurt, either. Whoever said you couldn't mix business and pleasure? His rigid wariness thawed into familiar self-confidence, a sly grin slipping seamlessly onto his lips as she slipped onto the chair, her knee braced rather provocatively between his as her hand slipped something into his pocket. Neal heard the soft jingle of keys as Temperance exchanged them for the bill in his pocket. Her words echoed in his ear and Neal found himself grinning.
His eyes went pointedly to the hand she had dropped the keys from, just in time to catch her slip the coveted money into her dress. His smile widened in amusement. The game was on.
"A Franklin for a Lambo?" he asked, quiet enough for her ears only, before pausing in mock-thought. His grin brightened to a mega-watt smile. "Sounds fair," He said a little louder, and shrugged, hand casually brushing the pocket of his pants and coming up with the keys between his fingers. He spun them once around his finger and caught them in his hand, standing in the same instant. Neal started for the door without breaking his stride, tossing a boyish grin over his shoulder at the agent and the fellow thief as he stepped through the door and disappeared.
).