Tadhg

Nightmares

• 

• The Essentials

  Name: Baron Tadhg Mac an Ghoill ap Balor
  Preferred Name: Tadhg (McGill)
  True Name: Entrusted to no one but himself
  Race: Fae (Pureblood)
  Race before Chrysalis: Human
  Kith: Sidhe
  Age: 24
  Seeming: Wilder
  Court: Unseelie
  Noble House: Balor
  Physical Deformities: his webbed toes have four joints, glowing red Balor eyes, forked tongue
  From: Co. Antrim, Northern Ireland (born in Arcadia)
  Current Residence: New Versailles, Louisiana
  Rank: Baron (honourary)
  Eyes: Red
  Hair: Violet
  Height: 6'
  Weight: 160 lbs
  Build: Lithe, broad shouldered, toned
  Scars: Sidhe don't scar!
  Tattoos: From head to toe
  Allergies: Iron and cold steel
  Sexual Orientation: Why are mortals so rigid?
  Weapons: Maces, mauls, clubs and other blunts (made from silver and wood)
  Aura: Silver and blue with flecks of purple
  Favourite Holiday: Hallowe'en / Samhain
  Favourite Colour: Blue
  Favourite Drink: Irish whiskey; Jameson, Bushmills, Knappogue Castle
  Unseelie Legacy: Schismatic
  Seelie Legacy: Wayfarer
  Romantic Unseelie Legacy: Gamester
  Romantic Seelie Legacy: Empath
  Likes: drugs, Nevermore/Never, drinks: whiskey, cider, ale, beer, fucking shite up, the craic, ink, sex, revolutions, radical politics, poetry, lyric, music, dancing, swearing, vulgarity, nice cigars, hurling, KILTS
  Dislikes: his titles (don't you dare call him Baron Tadhg!), conventional sidhe, seelie court, pageantry, court life, intellectual snobbery, nobles

• Appearance

  Lad had deep purple hair, deep red eyes, and long pointed ears-- nothing out of the ordinary for sidhe. What was strange was his informal demeanor and his flirtation with ink. From his ankle to his head, he was covered in the ever changing tattoos, images that danced in his dreams and nightmares, kept on his flesh rather than his notebook. He walked with swagger, but not grace or a noble bearing. It was like he was intentionally rebelling, challenging his birthrights. While most sidhe from the Dreaming are stuck in the past, still clad in the medieval garb of their ancestors, Tadhg favours a more contemporary look he discovered from his time spent in other worlds. The only odd medievalism he refuses to part with is his kilt, which he sees as both a symbol of rebellion, and also supremely comfortable.

• Two Halves

  
  While fae and changelings always perceive the fae mien of other kin most humans see only the outer form. Some hint of a true self always permeates this mortal mask, though. To survive in a world that refuses to believe, adopting mortal seemings to hide their fae miens became necessary for survival.
  
  To unenchanted humans and other mundane creatures, Tadhg appears as a six foot tall human man with brown hair and brown eyes.
  
  
  A changeling or faerie's fae mien is his true self, the faerie soul hidden within a costume of mortal flesh. To those with eyes that can perceive the Dreaming, the true form shines through the false veneer of mortality. Fae always recognize each other.
  
  To those with faerie sight Tadhg appears as a sidhe, with glowing skin, red eyes, preternaturally alabaster skin, and flashing violet hair.

• A Discourse by Tadhg

  "A True Discourse: Fucking Sidhe, Fucking Seelie!"

  Here’s the thing my fellow faeries, messiah non est and all that shite, but I've got an opinion. So come and listen my most noble boozers! Aye, cozy up with a brewski and listen to my rant. I'm PISSED OFF and ANGRY, and you should be too, brothers. The seelie can go fuck themselves. The sidhe can go fuck themselves as well. I didn’t ask to be a baron. Do you want to be a baron? I was born a baron, but you, dear reader, can have it. Baronies are sand through my fingers. What kind of bullshit is that anyway? Titles and nobility are nothing to me; but they are everything to my family and to people like me.
  It is popularly said that you need both the seelie and the unseelie courts to rule a kingdom. I smell horse pucky. The seelie court is the most classist, oppressive, hierarchical bunch of fops you will ever encounter in Arcadia, Furcadia, Earth, The Dreaming: Near and Far-- WHEREVER! And these tyrants maintain their world order under the guise of “kindness,” “chivalry,” and “noblesse oblige”-- terms that mean NOTHING. Those are empty words that can mean what you want them to mean, terms the faerie nobility will bend to their own twisted wills to oppress my fellow kithain. Tell me why it is my best friends are Redcaps and Sluagh? Because I can see beauty, power, and awe on the inside. Other sidhe, seelie and unseelie, can't keep up with that dance. I didn’t want to spend my life sitting on the throne, having trolls do my dirty work and having boggans shine my shoes and build my furniture. That’s why I joined the motley.
  
  My fop cousin is the perfect example of everything I hate about sidhe. His Earldom is rotten piss, and his subjects hate him. He tells me I am classless, lacking morals, yet HE keeps himself above all his courtiers and retinue, blindly kissing his Queen's poxy arse. You know why? Because he won’t flirt with his unseelie side. He is so poisonously good, so blinded by preconceived notions. He can't see himself for what he is. A tyrant. An emperor with no clothes.
  
  Well, I usurped that fucker once. Now I am banished. Do I care? Not a bit.
  
  I was in the Shadow Court for a while. I did some bad things there. I’m not proud of it. I have a shitty reputation. But you know what? The sidhe can't hurt me anymore, because those gobshites no longer hold any dominion over me.
  
  

  *Signed Simply*
  

• Tadhg's Desk

  In New Versailles, The door to a ramshackle studio apartment on the 8th floor of an old apartment complex was left ajar. You notice a messy

  desk.

  

  A bottle of cologne: John Varvatos Artisan. A Ball mason jar filled with bark, moss and airplants. A scroll from court with the royal wax seal inside. A Marlboro red cigarette.

  A map of Faerie kingdoms in the USA, Louisiana is marked. An iPhone. A Letter from Dublin addressed to one "Tadhg M." in New Versailles. A quill. A big mug of coffee.

  A guide to Brú na Bóinne. the trod from which he entered Earth One craft-brewed local ale. A book, Irish Fairy and Folk Tales ed. W.B. Yeats. A faerie bauble. Infused with glamour, don't touch it, lest ye fall under his spell!

  He should really clean up his shite. The rest of his apartment is a pig sty. How can anyone live like this and why doesn't he lock his door?

• Oath-bound in a Past Life

  You must never break an oath

  The Oath of Fealty
  "I swear fealty unto you, Unseelie Court.
  Your command is my desire, and your request my desire.
  May my service always please, and may my sight grow dark if it does not.
  As the tides to the moon, my will to yours, my lieges."
  
  Bound by a Tyrant's Spell
  The Unseelie court requires being sworn in by blood. Because Tadhg served the Unseelie in his past life, any Unseelie noble outranking Baron Tadhg (King/Queen, Prince/Princess, Duke/Duchess, Count/Countess) may give him an order he is forced to fulfill, provided the command isn't intentionally for Tadhg to do direct harm unto himself (i.e., "jump off a cliff" won't work). While his mind may resist, his faerie soul and his body will obey. He is currently unaware that he is oath-bound or cursed.

• Seeking

  | Dreamers | Friends | Other Fae |