Name Connell Donaghy

Nickname Conn, Old Bear, Connie

Title The King's Bastard

Race Human

Visual Age 26-29

Factual Age 32

Gender Male

Sexual Orientation Heterosexual

Class Warrior

Specialization Mercenary

Physical Description

Fierce-looking and intimidating to anyone who doesn't know him, Connell could be accurately described as resembling a grizzled bear. Attaining his father's chiseled likeness, and his grandfather's staggering height, Connell stands at a bewildering six feet. His broad shoulders taper into well-muscled arms, riddled with strong, thrumming veins. His soot-black hair is trimmed tightly on the sides, leaving tapered sideburns trailing across his high cheekbones. Small tufts of ebony hair festoons back from his forehead, often feeling as soft as a foals' new coat; a style he adopted from his mothers' barbarian clan. Warriors, he was told, adopted that style of hair whenever they struck out onto the battlefields. It represented strength and outlandish respects. Connell's eyes are a piercing blue, and combined with his sparkling smile, add to his allure; many a maiden has fancied him. Whereas men seem to feel unnerved by his hardened and calculating gaze. Brooding eyes set over a stern mouth, which is more often than not curled into a wickedly cheerful grin. His body, however, is scarred; small white lines dot his body, mostly around his extremities and specifically around his neck. Needless to say, his physique is impressive if not daunting. Largely muscled, Connell has spent years in manual labour honing his ability to pound the rigid holds out of iron and taming any metal he is given. He cares about the shape of his body, viewing indolence and ease as weakness, thus filling his time with motion and life. He's not terribly concerned with fashion and wears loose fitting clothing – normally, simple brown breeches and a worn vest with a tawny under shirt. Occasionally, he can be spotted wearing a tattered scarf around his neck. He's never seen without his axe; he wears two inter-crossing leather straps wound across his back to hold his beloved weapon.

Appearance
Hair: Ebony
Eyes: Aquamarine
Build: Well-muscled, appears bearish
Skin Tone: Slightly tanned
Height: 6'0”
Weight: 210lbs
Voice: Connell's recognizable by his sonorously deep voice.
Handed: Right
Body Markings: On his left breast is a tattoo marking him one of the God King's bannermen, though this gives him no such recognition, power, or acknowledgement, much to his chagrin.
Scar Tissue: Two oval burn markings mar the insides of his thighs; punishments he earned in the smithy for being overly smart towards his master. A few questions too personal for a lowly apprentice, and he was wailing over the anvil, bawling over the hissing spit and cracks of hot iron burning on flesh. Well, either way, he'd learned early that he best keep his mouth closed. Any questions involving the God King were strictly prohibited. In spite of such punishments, he still holds his masters' memory in high regards. A man must learn from his mistakes, and grow stronger with each scar.
Unique Body Features: Connell is missing his pinky finger, and his second-last finger on his left hand. If asked, he will tell you the story about the drunken baker whose folly was swinging his axe at him for sleeping with his daughter. He'll also tell you that he was in love with her, and he'd caught the axe with half of his hand, only to lose two of his fingers. Though, upon closer inspection, you would notice that they have only been severed to the knuckles. Whether or not the story is true is yet to be determined. Another oddity is the fact that Connell's canine teeth are strangely more pointed than normal, giving him a toothy smile. His nose is slightly crooked from having been broken, and healing in the wrong position.

PERSONALITY

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The rough exterior of a quartz scarcely compares to the beauty within. So, Connell is described. The cold contours of his face, an expression of stoic fortitude, is a poor representation of the volcano simmering in his guts. Such things derive from well-deserved bitterness towards his father, the God King. Far more approachable than the majority of his kin, Connell laughs heartily, drinks merrily, and speaks incessantly when given an opportunity. His talkative nature seems to emanate from the raw desire to know, to understand, to feel the people around him through voice and laughter. Men and women are more to him than a collection of bones and blood, they breath with their souls, speak with their hearts, and laugh with their entire being. He wants to share himself in that. Always the first to offer easy conversation, and the first to joke, Connell enjoys good company. Unlike those peacock-men who choose to flaunt their swords at their hips, the blacksmith prefers a more pacifistic approach to every situation. Smoothing the wrinkles out of heated conversations is one of his specialities. Whether or not those in question back off because he's a hulking mass of muscles, or because he's simply far too jovial to hit, remains unknown. He'd guess that it was a bit of both.

Connell is a headstrong and stubborn man, sculpted with years of hard work and confident teachings. He's almost proud to a fault, which can often be mistaken for qualities such as arrogance, bullheadedness and cheeky bluster. But, that isn't the case. He just takes his responsibilities seriously, and relishes in his own work. “Vanity and pride are different things, though the words are often used synonymously. A person may be proud without being vain. Pride relates more to our opinion of ourselves; vanity, to what we would have others think of us.” Connell is no way, shape or form, vain. He can nurse a bruised ego as readily as any other man can, or perhaps even better, and will continuously strive to better himself.

He’s begun to yearn for more—of what, he just can’t seem to say. He’s been afraid of such knowledge and closeness, afraid of facing both his pasts in a way. The lack of knowledge of his mothers' kin leaves him feeling alone in the world, and while the God King ignores his attempts at rekindling their failing relationship—he feels as if he's been abandoned. Connell's forward momentum has been gradual, one small grain of sand on top of another. His personality reflects all these things: he’s swarthy, rough, purposefully aloof, but with the faint light of humour and mischief like moonlight filtering through the clouds. Although his curiosity is in full blossom, the blacksmith feels perfectly comfortable with his daily routine. Change frightens him more than he'd care to admit. He's openly passionate about his views and opinions, and will outright refuse wealthy offers to stay where he feels comfortable. Manipulation and open deceit completely eludes the forthright man; he genuinely believes in his masters' words, “Trickery and treachery are the practices of fools that have not the wits enough to be honest.” Rather than constantly weighing the odds and calculating the outcomes, Connell prefers to bulrush ahead and react with his instincts. Practical and hardworking, he enjoys keeping himself busy and can often work himself to exhaustion if he isn't careful. He is modest, yet ambitious, passionate in achieving his dreams and just as well, in love. And once you've gained his loyalty and trust, you've earned yourself an unfaltering, considerably devoted ally.

Purpose is everything, and he seeks it as desperately as a hound.

Many see Connell as a brawny bastard; all strength and rippling muscles without intelligence. Little more than a faithful bitch. This isn't entirely true. While he prefers to live simply, he isn't simple. His curiosity and wanderlust is a deep-seated need to see all that he can. Because of this, he sometimes spends long periods of time doing nothing but reflecting on his purpose in life—on everyone's purpose, and his role, and on love and hate, and power. He wastes time thinking more than he'd care to admit.

Moral Alignment Neutral Good

Quirks Has the unusual ability to sleep in any position, or circumstance; Often says “Pardon?” whenever asked something, even if he's heard you the first time; Refuses to sit with the tavern door facing his back; Rubs the back of his neck when he's nervous; Rubs his hands together when he feels cold, or shoves them under his shirt; Sometimes forgets he's missing two fingers, feels as if they are still there; Cracks his neck and knuckles frequently, it makes him feel better; Feels awkward not calling nobility “Ser” and “Lady”; Before approaching someone to speak, he has to take a few moments to rehearse exactly what it is he's going to say before he goes up to them, for fear of mixing up his messages; Says “Ahhh—“ often, mumbles in-between his sentences; Often obsesses over the make of swords, axes, and armour, to the point of being inadvertently rude towards the crafters; Tosses his jade figurine in the air when he's bored (or anything else he manages to get his hands on); Has a compulsive need to always keep himself occupied with something. Often this involves flipping a coin, tapping his fingers in rhythms, playing with his dagger or anything else that can keep his hands busy.

Fears Life-threatening diseases that have no cure; Geese; Losing his hands; Being crippled; Healers; Not being able to see his half-sister, Iphigenia; Failure; Dying without proving himself; Abandonment.

Goal Honestly, Connell doesn't have any goal set in stone. He's a simple blacksmith with a simple life planned out for himself, when he has the finances and lands to support them. For now, he desperately wishes to prove himself to his father, the God King. He wants to prove himself as someone other than “The Bastard,” and seeks his biological father to make his amends for leaving his mother, and not attending her burial ceremony.

Likes Ring-mail shirts; Strong, well-made armour; Barbaric weapons; Strong ales; Tournaments; Listening to bards sing; Code of honour; Different cultures; Outrageous stories and fables; Has a rather odd habit of watching the sunrise and sunset each day as well, and loves doing so; Has a strange affinity for small creatures, especially cats; Fishing; Learning to read with Iphigenia; Making meat stocks for soup; Hunting and the act of preparing his kill (skinning, plucking, washing, tanning); Gusty people; Genuine laughter, and smiles.

Dislikes Falsehoods and lying; Betrayal; Men without any honour; Mercilessness; Fanatics; Arrogance; Being tricked; Hypocrites; Royalty; His father, the God King; His cooking being ridiculed; People who are wasteful;

Strengths He's as strong as a bull, without the hot temperament; He's instinctively a brawler, often naturally moving close to his opponents when fighting, instinctively grabbing and punching rather than striking with weapons. Often, he's considered merciful because of this; He's naturally friendly. Others feel comfortable around him, but this trait also makes it more difficult for him to be pushy or give commands; People initially want to follow him because he naturally exudes leadership qualities; Far-sighted, he has difficulty focusing on nearby objects, but his distance vision is more keen than normal; He's incredibly focused, enabling him to keep his attention on a task despite many distractions; however, events in the background pass him by; He's muscle-bound, meaning he's good at almost everything that requires strength, but less adept than most at tasks that require coordination; He's relentless and passionate about things that truly matter to him; Saddle-born.

Weaknesses He's quick to judge and write people off if they've said something wrong, or tarnished his idea of honour; He immediately hates anyone who is arrogant, and will most likely cause a fight if he feels threatened; Has a soft spot for animals, as well as adorableness; Often succumbs to Iphigenia's, wishes. If she wants anything, she doesn't need to do anything but ask, and he'll try to please and protect her the best he can manage, even if it costs him his life; He's easily goaded into doing the right thing, even if it puts him in life-threatening situations; Doesn't respond well to emotional outbreaks; Can be easily bullied into doing things, and is often susceptible to manipulation; His near-sightedness causes him to feel dizzy in large crowds.

MOUNT

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Appearance
Hair: Bander has a long, thick mane and tail, often wavy, and "feathers"--long, silky hair on the lower legs, deliberately left untrimmed. When the children – specifically the girls – visit his shop, he allows the girls to braid his hair, and thread flowers through his mane.
Eyes: Chestnut brown
Build: The breed has powerful overall conformation and good bone structure, with what is sometimes called a "Baroque" body type. Bander has a long, arched necks and well-chiseled, short-eared, "Spanish type" head. His sloping shoulders are quite powerful. He has a compact, muscular body with strong sloping hindquarters and a low-set tail. His limbs are comparatively short and strong, and he towers proudly amidst all of the knightly steeds.
Height: 16.3 hands
Weight: 1500
Body Markings: The Friesian is most often recognized by its black coat colour, though colour alone is not their only distinguishing characteristic. So, in short, Bander's completely noire.
Scar Tissue: Bander suffers from mild degrees of scratches; also known as pastern dermatitis and grease heel, scratches is a skin irritation commonly associated with draft horses and other breeds with long feathers, though it may also occur in those with very little fetlock hair as well. It occurs most commonly as scabs on the back of the pastern and fetlock joints, and occasionally up the legs on the hocks or knees. Connell is consistently treating his scabs with ointments and frequent washes, and for the time being its' cleared up.

Name Bander

Nickname Ban

Race Friesian Horse

Age 10

Gender Stallion

Abilities Running; Jumping; Charging; Carrying two riders at a time, for long distances; Pulling heavy wagons

Skills Running; Jumping; Stamina; Charging; Pulling heavy wagons

Equipment A simple brown leather saddle set atop a saddle cloth covered with soft wool, embroidered with heraldic colours and arms of the God King. Small pouches have been sewn to the saddle, carrying: brushes, clean rags, a knife, and horseshoe picks.

Accessories Feathers and beads have been braided into the Friesian's mane, all given to him by little girls who enjoy petting him when he's in the stables.

Bio/History Honestly, Connell received Bander as an inadvertent gift from the God King. When he was a boy and the tourneys were in place, celebrating a cause that he didn't particularly care about, Connell entered with the hopes of forcing his biological father to acknowledge his existence. To admit that he was his, and he belonged with Iphigenia and his other brothers. Cursing and spitting after every single match, he managed to unhorse every man he went against and without the God King ever batting an eye in his direction. After every match, his mood soured and he wished he hadn't been so foolhardy as to show his face. When the tourney came to its' end, Connell was gifted with a young foal taken from his fathers' personal herd of strong destriers, and a measly handshake from one of his councillors. The last he saw of his father was his back as he strode away, without even congratulating him. Without even acknowledging him. Bander's a sour reminder of his success in the tourneys, and his failure at impressing his fastidious father. All in all, he's eternally grateful for having such a faithful steed.

EQUIPMENT

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[Perfect] - [Excellent] - [Good] - [Above Average] - [Average] - [Below Average] - [Poor] - [Very Poor]

Clothing/Armour

[Average] A "Bears Steel": He's not terribly concerned with fashion, nor is he adamant about wearing heavy armours, so he prefers to wear loose fitting clothing – normally, simple brown breeches and a worn vest with a tawny under shirt. Occasionally, he can be spotted wearing a tattered scarf around his neck. This isn't to say that he doesn't own an extravagant, splendid set of noble armour, because he honestly does. He'll spend hours polishing its' steel until it shines in the sun, but understands that the more armour you wear, the slower you move. If ever he were drafted as a simple soldier, he would gladly don his armour - perhaps, sloughing off the heavier bits. He's crafted pauldrons of thick leather, embedded with steel studs; a thin chain mail shirt made from strong, yet light chain links; a pair of beautiful vambraces made from heavy grade leather and though thick, comfortable; a bear crested breastplate with segmented shoulders; a striking helmet in the shape of a bears head; a pair of leather boots with studded plates on the toes; and a thick pair of leather trousers with reinforced knees.

Combat Prowess

[None/Very Poor] Magical Powers: Seeing as his magical prowess is nonexistent, Connell doesn't resort to such means and hasn't made any effort in trying to learn. This isn't likely to change soon. Though, he's noted that it'd be interesting to learn healing arts, and greatly appreciates their abilities.

[Perfect] Armed Combat: Connell's swordsmanship stems from a long line of gifted warriors, and with barbarian blood running hot in his veins, he seems to have been moulded into a prodigy. Immediately after receiving him as a youngster, his master took him under his wing and perfected his grandiose strength. Two-handed weapons are swung with precision and speed; it's a wonder how he wields such large weapons with as much ease as one would wielding a single blade.

[Excellent] Hand-to-Hand Combat: He's a formidable armed and unarmed combatant. Having been in several fights in his youth, he's come to learn that he needs to fight just as well without his axe to come out with his heart still beating. Armed with meaty, calloused hands and a great, hulking stature, there aren't too many men who'd be willing to face him in unarmed combat. There's been over-exaggerated tales of how he's ripped off a man's arm by pushing him away—which is completely untrue, but it helps him keep out of ridiculous fights.

[Average] Ranged Combat: There's nothing much to say in this department. He isn't terribly bad with a bow but finds them awfully uncomfortable for his size and strength; he often ends up breaking it by pulling the bowstring far too taut. He prefers small throwing axes, which he's become exceedingly well in using. Any other means such as crossbows or knives have been currently unused.

Abilities

[Excellent] Strength of a Bear: Connell's extraordinary strength stems from years of agonizingly strenuous days; Jeremiah's means of creating a strong, proud warrior. In spite of being human, he's attained the abilities of carrying far heavier loads than his kinsmen, and with little repercussions. His physical discipline is outstanding, far surpassing most of the guardsman serving beneath the God's King. He also has incredible stamina, enabling him to go without sleep for a few days.

[Good] Battle-Trance (Berserker): Due to the barbaric lineage Connell has the ability to dive headlong into blood lust when battles ensues or when his rage peaks. His attacks seem to be uncoordinated swings driven by whatever bursting emotions he's feeling—and most likely, they are uncoordinated and wild and repeated in quick succession. However, they're never clumsy. The attack patterns are so unpredictable, foes will find that defending against the his attacks are almost impossible.

[Good] Berserker Resilience: As Connell's learned more about his mothers' tribesmen, he's come to a new sort of reverent plane that involves following his kinsmen' footsteps in their teachings. He wants to attain their strength, without walloping off his discipline.“No weapon could bite them" or "iron could not bite into him,” he's taken these words to heart. Whereas pain would bother a normal man, he grits his teeth and bares it like the great bear he resembles. This isn't necessarily an immunity to weapons, but a stubbornness that proceeds common sense.

Spells [Very Poor] Unlike his father, Connell was never magically gifted. Even if he's literate (thanks to his beloved sister, Iphigenia), he hasn't shown any interest in the arcane arts. He prefers simple means to get his point across, primarily: his axe. This isn't to say that he looks down on those who prefer those means, though. He still tends to keep a wary distance from those who meddle with arts they should steer away from. Dark arts that offer sacrifices to their Gods—he thinks it's disgusting, and generally mistrusts anyone who admits to performing them.

Skills

[Good] Worldly and Wise: Despite his brutish appearance, Connell utilizes his brains as well as his brawn. The God King's bastard is a talented fighter, but his travels have given him vast experience in other trades, especially as a peddler; he is also a talented commander, tactician and strategist, as well as a born leader. People love him, and he truly wants to better the lands. They would gladly follow him, if only he wasn't a blacksmith.

[Above Average] Languages: Connell has a knack for speaking many languages, including advanced reading and writing abilities: whether or not this stems from his odd bloodline, he's able to recognize, or even decipher, certain ancient or secret signs and writings, presumably threading towards barbaric times.

[Perfect] Blacksmith: Blacksmithing is the art and science of creating objects from iron or steel by forging the metal; by using tools to hammer, bend, and cut. In accords to such a fickle art, Connell could be considered magical. He's nearly surpassed his master and in such a short time, without needing to travel in search of new techniques. Creating ornately decorated helmets and chest plates resembling the most fierce beasts has become his passion, and he continues to do so with the more fiery determination. Each one is increasingly more beautiful, more powerful, and more striking. He excels in all areas of 'smithing: forging, drawing, shrinking, bending, punching and upsetting. Ask any man in Illumine, Connell can forge any shape from nearly any metal. His attention to detail is spectacular, and he'd be damned if the God King, his father, wasn't impressed.

[Above Average] Horsemanship: Another skill Iphigenia has taught him. Connell entered a tourney in his youth in the God King's honour and eventually, bruised and injured, won it. Without so much as a word from his biological father, he earned himself a measly handshake and a young willy foal from the God King's personal herd. It would grow into a strong destrier, they told him. Connell gathered his bruised ego and slunk away from the tourney, holding the horses' reigns in tow. It was only when Iphigenia visited him that he admitted never riding a horse. Soon enough, he was as good as any novice rider and immediately took a liking to horses—and became quite good at riding them, as well. Now, his hulking stallion matches his personality and physicality, and he can ride him without looking like he'd fall from the saddle.

[Good] Intimidation: Unfortunately, Connell is the worst when it comes to persuading anyone of anything. He isn't the best commerce-men and does not like to lie, so he'll resort to mere intimidation with the help of his rippling size. It works, most of the time.

[Excellent] Two-Handed: Gifted with the ability to wield a large, two-handed axe, Connell prefers to use anything that weighs heavy in his hands. He's tried using simple rapiers and one-handed axes, but they look ridiculous when he wields them. “A man must be prominent with any blade, and any weapon, but for you... you must use this, it's been passed on.”

Weapon
Weapon Name: Malya
Weapon Type: Two-handed axe
Material: Dwarven Steel
Length: 6'
Weight: 150lbs
Weapon Description/Info: His beloved axe, Malya, is a family heirloom that has been passed down for nameless generations. The name of the axe changes with each generation, as the owner will name the weapon after the most beloved person in his or her life. When the previous owner dies, their body is cremated and a pinch of their ashes is taken and put into the hollowed pommel of the axe, joining the rest of the ancestral ashes. The next owner will then take up the axe. It's usually passed down to the eldest son, or daughter, which follows his mothers' clan's traditions.

Equipment Preferring to live simply, Connell only carries what he truly needs when he travels to different cities. An old leather satchel, given to him by a woman peddling flowers on the streets, carries all of the survival tools he could ever ask for, as well as small tools he uses in the 'smithy. A simple cloth-entwined package of toiletries, including: a fine-toothed comb, a horse brush, a blunt razor, and soap. He oft brings himself a serrated hunting blade for long treks on the road when he's left to fend for himself in the woods. He carries a small ration of small oatcakes, dried jerky, a knuckle of stale bread, a flask of hot clove wine, and sometimes a small amount of cheese. Besides that, Connell carries very little else, unless he's carrying a package of metal goods.

Accessories A small silver broach in the shape of a snarling bear given to him by Iphigenia.

HISTORY

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Group Affiliation None

Faction Eventually, the Rebellion Force

Marital Status Widowed

Relatives He's heard he has many siblings, none he actually knows besides Princess Iphigenia. His father is the reputable God King, and his mother is unknown and possibly deceased.

Residence Illumine, the Iron Hand

Social Rank Gentleman

Occupation Blacksmith

Blood Pact None

Bio/History From the age of five, Connell was fostered by the God King's personal blacksmith, Jeremiah Tirellis. He ended up befriending Tirellis' eldest son, and came to consider Jeremiah as his father as opposed to his constantly absent, biological father, the God King. Instead of inheriting his father's surname, Wynter, he was forced to adopt a measly bastard name; one of his choosing, Jeremiah at least gave him that. The reasons why he chose Donaghy remains unknown. He immediately rejected the common bastard names such as Snow, because it reminded him too much of a birth he'd been cheated from. With his head full of squire dreams and one day flourishing as a full-fledged knight of the King's banner, he toiled night and day bent over anvils and smouldering furnaces with renewed hope. His dreams were constantly being dashed on the grounds, and he'd be forced to try and shake free of them with difficulty. Jeremiah had always been a strict hand, as well as a strict mentor, but all the same he felt affectionate towards the strong man. In his youth, he'd be taught tough lessons whenever he disobeyed his master, and just as quickly, he'd learnt his lessons with the ends of the steel poker. All of the scars he bears on his body are reminders of how he's progressed as a young man, and continued on with the steely determination of the weapons he hammers daily.

Even being born the first born son of the God King, Connell was never recognized as such. He wasn't even considered one of the God King's children, just a cast off bastard who was best forgotten. He was never expected to follow in his father's footsteps, nor was he expected to be anything else but the blacksmith's apprentice, and maybe in the future, the God King's personal 'smith. A mere humbled servant who had to forget his royal ties. No one would comment on how he looked so like the God King, or that he had his same dusky eyes, and ebony hair, and handsome face. There would be no flowery compliments or cozy beds awaiting him every night. He'd return to the smithy and think on his entire life, and how someday he'd make his biological father acknowledge him.

Connell never knew of his birth mother. He doesn't remember the smell of her hair, the curves of her face, or the colour of her eyes. He doesn't know how much he resembles her. No sweet songs remind him of her voice, nor does he remember the sound of jingling laughter. He doesn't remember her, at all. And unfortunately, Jeremiah doesn't know what she looked like either. He's never had the chance to see the God King in person to ask him, and he doubts very much that if he'd been cast off that he'd even remember her face—she'd just been an empty sack of flesh to lay with, and abandon. That much was what Connell understood. He wouldn't have been surprised hearing of several bastard children being related to him. And in spite of having royal blood coursing through his veins, his royal siblings don't acknowledge him—all but Princess Iphigenia.

Her kindness knew no bounds. Connell found solace in her company, and often sought her out when he was upset, confused, or feeling lost. Even if she was younger, she was wise and held experience beyond her youthful years. In turn, he offered his simple companionship, and told her of the world through simple, honest eyes. Connell was sure that the God King disproved of their relationship, or was doubtful if any of the royalty knew. Either way, he was glad she'd even bothered to approach him. With his sister, his ridiculous notions and hope of proving his father wrong was rekindled and he aided her with any matters involving the God King's people. Being directly involved with their affairs, he got along and often helped the people of Illumine. Iphigenia seemed proud of his generosity, and took more time out of her busy schedule to involve herself. Although, they couldn't directly be seen walking about together or it'd cause whispering voices—she hid beneath cloaks and simple clothes around him, if only to spend more time amidst her people. The God King had little love, but everyone feared him to some degree and followed like sheep. Connell hated this more than anything and often proved to himself that the God King's kin could do justice, and good, even if they shared the same blood.