Post by Declan O'Malley on May 21, 2012 20:29:16 GMT -5
Declan O’Malley
FULL NAME HERE Declan O'Malley
NICKNAMES
GENDER Male
AGE 18
GRADE 12; Senior
ETHNICITY Irish
SPECIALTY
- Explosives and artillery- Declan’s father is an agent of the Provisionalist IRA. He was the maker and detonator of several bombings in Northern Ireland. He taught his son everything he knew. And Declan spent the last couple of years before the British government got a hold of him, making explosives for his father.
- Bataireacht- Bataireacht is a term used to describe the various stick fighting martial arts of Ireland. Since ancient times, the arts of stick fighting had been handed down from fathers to sons or learned in traditional military fencing schools. The shillelagh is still identified with Irish popular culture to this day, although the arts of bataireacht are much less so. The sticks used for bataireacht are not of a standardized size, as there are various styles of bataireacht, using various kinds of sticks.
- Hand to Hand combat- The Irish have always solved their problem using pugilism. And every Irishman teaches his son to defend himself using his fists alone. Declan’s father, as an IRA agent, taught his son to fight hand to hand, for more than just a settlement of dispute.
YOUR CHARACTER'S LIKES
+Whiskey; really, any booze will do, but Irish whiskey is his favorite
+Sex; That's pretty self-explanatory...
+Music; He loves traditional Irish music, more than any other genre. But he also listens to folk and symphonic metals.
+Rugby; He loves playing the rough and tumble sport
+Fighting; As a good Irish lad, he enjoys a good tussle
+Clove cigarette's; He has been known to smoke a cigar as well, but he prefers the heavily scented clove cigarillo's.
+His Mother; Declan loved his mother above all else in the world. And it is his long term goal to see vengeance done.
+His Shillelagh
YOUR CHARACTER'S DISLIKES
-His Father; Nothing puts Declan in a fouler mood than interacting with his father. Some say it’s because they are too similar around each other for them to like it.
-No Booze; The only thing that could possibly make him more unhappy than his father and that is having no alcohol to drown out his father's nasty words.
-Striking Out; Declan loves going out and hitting on women and even men, but Declan hates in when he has no luck and goes home alone.
-Liars; Declan can get along with most people. But Declan can't stand to be lied to. If he can't trust you, you're not worth his time.
-No fighting; Declan loves fighting, fist fight or otherwise. And the fact he can’t openly tussle kind of brings him down.
-Spiders;.......What?....They're gross.....
FEARS
x Losing his father- Even though he dislikes his father. And blames him almost as much as the British government for his mothers death, he doesn't want his father to die and leave him all alone.
x Not finding peace- He wants vengeance against his mother's death, or at least to find the one who set about the accident.
QUIRKS/ODDITIES
> Declan has a scar over his left eye that he is very self-conscious of, he keeps his hair longer so as to hide it easily. It's from some sort of accident he doesn't like talking about.
> Declan has very expressive eyebrows, that have been described as a facial tic. When he talks his eyebrows talk with him, making it even more interesting to look at the young Irishman.
> Singing voice- Not that he does it often, but when he is sufficiently drunk, he will happily serenade anybody near enough with a traditional Irish tune. He has a surprisingly nice singing voice.
> Left Leg Limp- Declan has a slight limp in his left leg. Whether it is a real limp from the accident that he and his mother were in, or he fakes it to try and get away with using his shillelagh, is anyone's guess.
OVERALL PERSONALITY
Declan is an arrogant, hot tempered red head with enough muscle to back up his big mouth. The combination of attitude and booze creates the environment for confrontation and that is usually what Declan gets. He has seen his share of bar fights and bar fights that have intensified to spill out onto the streets. But he adores a good brawl and won't stop until everyone else is knocked out or he wears himself out in the process.
But for all his boasting, Declan is usually a pretty laid back and mild mannered guy, when drink or sex are not involved. He is often amused by the fact that most people take him for a complete dolt, just by observing his demeanor. He is intelligent for the most part, aside from when his arrogance gets the better of him. He is thoughtful of others and tends to mind his own business when he is out anywhere alone. He only tries to show off when his friends or his significant other are around.
Declan carries himself very confident, always having a lopsided smirk smeared across his lips and a twinkle of mischief in his eyes. When it comes to romantic interests, he is very charming and sweet. When he feels like something or someone is invading on something he will get very protective over his claim. But otherwise, he is the perfect gentleman to the person of his interest.
Declan has the bad habit of not thinking certain things through when it comes to getting someone into bed. It often ends up getting him in trouble or often more trouble than he is already in.
If Declan feels like he has been emasculated he will sulk until he gets sufficiently drunk or properly regains his lost pride.
Some people wonder how Declan can be so arrogant one moment and so absolutely sweet the next. That is the moment his siblings will point with in the direction of his mother and father. Declan's, mother Tara was the exact opposite of his father Seamus. His mother was gentle, sweet-natured, and caring. While his father, on the other hand, is arrogant, quick-tempered, and impulsive. And as their son, he inherited the good, the bad, and the ugly.
Declan also has the nasty habit of talking trash when he is drunk. And that ends up getting him in even more trouble than he was already in. But he also fights his best when he is drunk.
To those he calls friends and most of his family, especially his mother, he is very well mannered. He would bend over backwards to please them and would stop at nothing to protect them. He can at times be very protective if he thinks he is in the right to do so.
When Declan drinks for pleasure, he is out looking for a good time. And being the outgoing individual he is, he most always has a great time out in the pubs with friends. But when Declan drinks to forget, that is when he is most looking to fight. Declan rarely drinks for anything but fun, but when the occasion arises, it is probably best to leave the Irishman alone.
Declan gripped Fiona tightly. She had always been a faithful companion; crushing and breaking body parts when asked of her with just a flick of Declan's wrist. After all, the power came from the hips, generating force as the body turns, making a simple quarter twist of the wrist, a dangerous and deadly blow from his shillelagh. Despite his muscular frame he was rather lithe when he wanted to be, he had to be when he played his favorite sport; rugby. He moved lightly down a hallway, always ready to strike when he went around a corner. It was quiet. So quiet it registered as very odd to the Irishman. There was hardly even a creak from the old floorboards when his heavy body moved over them. The small hairs on the back of his neck were standing on end. He was alone. But he wasn't. He could feel them. The others in the house that were not of the living. He wasn't able to use magic like his sister, but he had his magic pendant that felt warm when magic was near and he could also sense the entire magical presence in the house. The sheer volume of what was there that was not meant to be, made him feel a bit ill. There was something wrong in this house.
Something very, very wrong.
He had covered what he thought to be an entire floor on this manor house, when he ended up just finding a new wing to get lost in. Declan took a deep breath, inhaling the must and slight tinge of a certain metallic odor.
Blood.
He smelled blood. He could never forget that smell of copper; like America's small currency. He somehow doubted there was a huge pile of pennies down that hallway. His nostrils flared as he looked the direction he smelled the blood from and he, with a heavy heart, went past the corridor and continued on towards a way that didn't bode so negatively at this time. If he wasn't concerned with finding his brothers, or anyone else, he would have gone barrelling down the corridor in search of the source. But the fact that no sound was accompanied with the scent, meant that whoever or whatever was the source, was also no longer of the living realm. He trudged on.
Declan was beginning to become more anxious as he walked along, no sign of anything living to greet him. He felt in his pocket and he sighed a small sigh of relief; his pack of Djarum Blacks was where he left them, his lighter tucked in the empty space in the box. He pulled one out and lit up. Taking a long drag from the cigarillo, he exhaled the clove spiced smoke out slowly. It at least took the edge off his creeping concern. But as he continued moving through the passages, suddenly he could hear a familiar loud, raucus voice. It was almost as if the house was keeping him from hearing the voice til he was almost on top of the source.
Declan poked his head around a corner and saw the expected owner of the voice. And to his mounting relief, two of the other people he wanted to find. There they were, altogether, his brothers; Scotland, Wales, and even England. No Ireland he noted and his heart dropped a little. He wanted his twin, but he would be content with his brothers for the time.
He walked up behind the three while they were occupied with their conversation he smeared a smug smile across his lips and began a loud belly-shaking laugh.
"Oi garsun's! Fanceh maytin' yersaylves ayt in ah playce layk dhis! Ef ay hadda known, ay woul'da made tea! Bahahahaha!" Declan spoke loudly and in his normal jubilant tone. The tone he always used when he was happy to see his brothers. Even annoying little Arthur was a welcome sight. He looked at Ewan and Howell as well. Howell's eyes, though he couldn't tell in the dim light, looked red from crying. But he couldn't be sure. And Ewan, by the looks of the doorway behind them as well, has just assaulted an innocent door with his boot and possibly his sword.
Something very, very wrong.
He had covered what he thought to be an entire floor on this manor house, when he ended up just finding a new wing to get lost in. Declan took a deep breath, inhaling the must and slight tinge of a certain metallic odor.
Blood.
He smelled blood. He could never forget that smell of copper; like America's small currency. He somehow doubted there was a huge pile of pennies down that hallway. His nostrils flared as he looked the direction he smelled the blood from and he, with a heavy heart, went past the corridor and continued on towards a way that didn't bode so negatively at this time. If he wasn't concerned with finding his brothers, or anyone else, he would have gone barrelling down the corridor in search of the source. But the fact that no sound was accompanied with the scent, meant that whoever or whatever was the source, was also no longer of the living realm. He trudged on.
Declan was beginning to become more anxious as he walked along, no sign of anything living to greet him. He felt in his pocket and he sighed a small sigh of relief; his pack of Djarum Blacks was where he left them, his lighter tucked in the empty space in the box. He pulled one out and lit up. Taking a long drag from the cigarillo, he exhaled the clove spiced smoke out slowly. It at least took the edge off his creeping concern. But as he continued moving through the passages, suddenly he could hear a familiar loud, raucus voice. It was almost as if the house was keeping him from hearing the voice til he was almost on top of the source.
Declan poked his head around a corner and saw the expected owner of the voice. And to his mounting relief, two of the other people he wanted to find. There they were, altogether, his brothers; Scotland, Wales, and even England. No Ireland he noted and his heart dropped a little. He wanted his twin, but he would be content with his brothers for the time.
He walked up behind the three while they were occupied with their conversation he smeared a smug smile across his lips and began a loud belly-shaking laugh.
"Oi garsun's! Fanceh maytin' yersaylves ayt in ah playce layk dhis! Ef ay hadda known, ay woul'da made tea! Bahahahaha!" Declan spoke loudly and in his normal jubilant tone. The tone he always used when he was happy to see his brothers. Even annoying little Arthur was a welcome sight. He looked at Ewan and Howell as well. Howell's eyes, though he couldn't tell in the dim light, looked red from crying. But he couldn't be sure. And Ewan, by the looks of the doorway behind them as well, has just assaulted an innocent door with his boot and possibly his sword.
YOUR NAME OR ALIASNemo
WHERE CAN WE CONTACT YOU?
Stormedead@hotmail.com
skype; pm for it
WHERE DID YOU FIND US? Professionalia
