Scion:Lions of War
5'11" 170lbs. Thick wavy dark hair, deep brown eyes. Swimmer's build.
Str 2 Dex 5(3) Sta 2(1) Cha 2 Man 5(1) App 5(1) Per 3 Int 2 Wit 5(1)
Animal Ken 2 Academics 3 Larceny 3 Athletics 3
Melee 3 Awareness 3 Occult 2 Empathy 3 Presence 3 Investigation 2 Stealth 3
Courage 4 Intellect 1 Expression 1 Piety 3
WP 7 Leg 4/16
Come Hither (App)
Body Armor (Sta)
Rabbit Reflexes (Wit)
Advantageous Circumstances (Man)
Escape Artist (Dex)
Perfect Partner (Dex)
Roll With It (Dex)
3-Deus Ex Machina
1-Blessing of Bravery
Tattoo-Intricate, (and somewhat painfully done) Celtic tattoo work wraps around Cuchulain’s torso, and apparently has some room for more work when his father deems that the time comes.
The Tattoos depict a tempestuous ocean, with a wave, the crest of which resembles a team of galloping horses created of the wave itself. Perhaps, water horses or puhka…only one knows for sure. There is also what appears to be an island in the ocean, and perhaps what is a beautiful and radiant sidhe in white on one “end” of the island speaking. On the other “end” of the island a darkly beautiful woman in black by a twisted tree, a crow on her shoulder.
Grants access to Water, Magic, Prophesy, and Psychopomp
Morrigan’s Murder- Small silver pin.
Grants animal purview and 10-30 ravens when used.
Manannan’s Wrath- This weapon appears to be made of shimmering liquid especially when it catches light. Legend has it the blade will kill any it wounds, and that it never misses it’s mark.
Acc Melee rolls, Grants access to War Purview.
((Updated 2/24 More to come. Also will edit and proofread later. ))
CuChulainn Mac Manannan cuts a heart-stoppingly dashing and roguishly charming first impression. Standing just shy of six feet, he has a strong swimmer’s/middleweight prize fighter’s build, wavy brown hair, deep brown eyes that have caused many a flutter, and an easy glacier melting smile. He is often in a sharp suit, belt, his shirts typically tie-less and the collars casually unbuttoned. While he has always had an easy way with the hearts of women, he has never been one to treat their affections cheaply or take advantage. As a matter of fact as one gets to know CuChulainn they often get the impression that he simply loves women. He loves them with a genuine affection and joy at being in their presence.
Mac’s story as he often says is not necessarily a happy one, but it is an Irish one. Growing up he had always had a restless heart, never seeming to find that place where he felt he fit in despite having a natural popularity and way with people. His single mother and he managed a stable where they gave lessons and tried to keep horses that were often on their last legs. She cared for her son with all her heart and worked hard to give him all she could in the way of strong upbringing and moral compass. In his early years he never understood why they didn’t get into a more profitable end of the equestrian business. All he was ever really told was that “this is what his father would have wanted.”
The young scion often wondered about his father and the circumstances that lead to his leaving his wife. Somehow, despite meager funds though, the family always seemed to have enough to get by. When his mother was not ensuring he kept up with his studies, CuChulainn spent his time riding along the countryside, especially more and more treacherous trails, and difficult horses, at full gallop, always seeming to beat the odds and difficulties that his mother was certain would result in a broken neck. She always spoke lovingly of the father that was never there, and Mac recieved the occassional letters on birthdays and such. He never really knew what his father was doing except fighting some war which apparently was not going so well.
Much more of a peacemaker, than a fighter Mac could never tolerate seeing the weak bullied by others. Often he would go to great lengths to outwit and humiliate those who would take advantage of the meek. When necessary, some also found that Mac’s reflexes, temper could be every bit as sharp and fast as his wits. Perhaps bullying bullies helped keep the young boy sane and able to cope with the sadness he often saw in his mother’s eyes, and felt in his own heart.
When the time came for college, he helped pay his tuition and make extra income for himself and his mother back home, by gambling and playing in backroom card games and pool tourneys around dormatories and local pubs. Always flush with cash, and at least one lovely young lass on an arm CuChulainn found his college years to be perhaps the best time of his life. During a second year break spent back at home, Mac finally met his father while enjoying a ride on his favorite horse. A fierce race ensued between them, and they streaked at frightening speeds along woods and hills, and the boy could swear when they passed brooks streams and rivers, that his father’s horse literally ran on the water itself rather than through or around it.
In the end the boy lost the race and at its conclusion, with the two of them walking their steeds Manannan Mac Lir began telling the young boy a bittersweet tale and filling in some of the gaps in his life, destiny and the rapidly faltering defense of a hopelessly besieged Tir na Nog. Mac Lir. Going off into the hills, Mac and his father stepped through one of the fae mounds that littered Ireland and he found himself marveling at the new world he had fallen into only to stand in awe before the terrible beauty of the Morrigan herself. The boy was shown wonderous marvels and marching companies of Sluagh, Aes Sidhe, and Fianna that might one day be under his command should he ever come to deserve such privlidge.
Until such a time as he proved worthy of more, the Morrigan gave to him a small pendant, and in a small thatch hut heated by the fire of a forge, CuChulainn sat, his torso stripped as two sidhe mixed dyes and inks with which to tattoo the boy in the manner of the ancient warriors who defended Ireland long before him. Once done the art was infused with power and Mac, his father, and the horses exited through another mound, overlooking the stables. The next two years would fly by as Mac finished school, and devoured all knowledge he could of Irish history, and more specifically often traveled all about the Isles in search of lore on the Tuatha de Danu and especially his father.
To celebrate his graduation from college, Mac took a two week trip with a group of friends to Montecarlo and there began what would turn into a new if brief vocation; professional gambler. Winning truly obscene amounts of cash at the baccarat and poker tables, CuChulainn became a sudden attraction, bringing in tourists and players his entire time there. Before he knew it he’d received an invitation and suddenly had one ticket after another to make his way by plane to Singapore, Atlantic City, Fox Woods CT, and then Las Vegas NV.
It would be during a day of celebration after a world poker tournament that Mac found himself wandering through the lobby of Ceasar’s palace as several angry looking Mexican soldiers went through a portal that went unnoticed by most others. And it was during that fateful day that he would come to meet Shiro, John Henry, and Lao-Tze. As for there rest, time would tell what the cards held.
When he isn’t tending horses, hes usually found behind a hand of cards, a pool table, or roulette wheel, with a big stack of money by his side. If you point out the odds of roulette he will kindly point out that odds are what you make them.
He’s a talker, and a lover rather than a fighter. However, he seems unable to abide by seeing good people get pushed around or taken advantage of. When such a thing takes place, Mac is quick to “even the odds” of the game.