Connor MacGowan

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• Vital Stats

  • Name: Connor MacGowan
  • Gender: Male
  • Nicknames: Mac, Connor Nord-Slayer, Mac, Vikingsbane
  • Race: Human/Were-Bear
  • Class: Warrior
  • Alignment: Good
  • Deity: Babd Catha (Goddess of War)
  • Age: 25
  • Size: Average
  • Body Type: Toned
  • Height: 5'3"
  • Weight: 179 lbs
  • Complexion: Fair
  • Hair: Orange/Ginger
  • Eyes: Green
  • Handedness: Right Handed
  • Scars: Many, including a chunk of his right cheek and jaw missing, the scar a deep shining red, though no one knows how he got it.
  • Relationship Status: Widowed and Single
  • Personality: He comes across as very tempermental and angry thanks to his bloodline and upbringing, but he has a very prominent sense of honor.
  • Mannerisms: He's bombastic and very drunk, so he always seems to be a bit eccentric
  • Likes: Booze, Women, Fighting, Weaponry, People who have Honor, Smithing
  • Dislikes: Dishonor, Weaklings, Brats, Vikings, Thieves, Harlots, Liars, Assassins
  • Voice: Billy Connolly

• Description

  When the call of blades cry through the air...
  
  The man certainly was one that held himself in high regard, but who wouldn't when one stood at a whopping height of five foot, three inches. Wild, shoulder length orange hair was wrought with braids and bone beads, and an unkempt beard dusted at his chin and cheeks. Piercing green eyes stared from a hard, scarred brow, and his garb of tartan wrappings and bear fur was a testament to his Highland Heritage. Many scars littered his arms and face, though the most prominent one was a deep gouging slash that split his right ear and ran down his jawline. It never seemed to heal properly, the flesh underneath the shining layer a deep and mottled red.
  
  His posture always seemed to hold himself higher than he was tall, and his boisterous and rowdy attitude always seemed to get him into quite a few hot situations. However, his sense of honor and pride was to be commended, never picking a fight with those he knew he could beat. His favored claymore, Bloodsteel, was always at his side, and he never seemed to be in public without it.
  
  May Highland pride give you safe passage home...

• Biography

  Born in a small village in Scotland, he was raised by a father who worked as a blacksmith, and a mother of Irish descent who trained horses for a living. Having been taught at a very young age that hard work made one stronger in body and spirit, he began helping both of his parents, proudly becoming both a talented smith and an adequate horse master. At the age of fourteen, he married a young woman by the name of Maggie, equally as rowdy as he was when it came to temperament and pride.
  
  Maggie was pregnant with their first child at the age of sixteen when the Vikings reached the highland shores, and in a raid of his village she was killed along with his father, mother, and most of the townsfolk. Finding her and his family in the burning remains, he took up his father's sword and the last surviving horse that his mother had trained and left to begin searching for the war party that had killed them.
  
  Finding them in the mountains, he gathered a small group of soldiers to plan an ambush. In the morning as they began to tear down their camps, MacGowan and his men attacked the surviving Nords, slaughtering most of them in a heated bout of rage. Those that escaped were hunted down in the few days following after, and their heads were put on pikes at the beach heads to warn those who came after. He didn't necessarily fight in the wars to come, but he aided where he could as he traveled.
  
  He finally took to the seas to travel to other lands, and found himself at the slaving island of The Golden Tether.

• Inspiration