Finnigan McGowwan

[Finnigan]

From a nearby hillock, a silhouette emerged. The ragged figure stumbling unevenly down the slope. A dark haired, thick-bearded man coming into focus. Various scars and bloodied wounds present themselves.

His visage one of a man who has seen countless battles, and felt a many a terrible blow. Unknown to Finnigan's audience was that for every scratch he recieved, he paid it back in full.

Hung across his back lies a massive axe, the head of which matching the size of a grown-man's torso.

Soon he had finally reached within earshot of those of Wessex nearby. Before any word could be shared, Finnigan simply grinned and fell to the ground. He had made it, so he hoped.

--------------------------------------------------

Hello all. I applied just today. Look forward to the possibility of maybe becoming a member. *bows low* Finnigan McGowwan is my name, pleasure to meet you.

[Destinova]

"Yes I know it is rather close to the Cathedral, but Lord Fishbarrel was insistent," the Chamberlain was saying. "He does not want to have to cross the town in the middle of the night to go to the broth-OOF!" Barely maintaining his balance, the Chamberlain and Vicar of Wessex was cut short having tripped over the body of a shaggy man lying in the street.

"Get this damned drunken lout off the road!" he shouted at a couple of the City Guard performing their rounds nearby. "Such indecency," he said shrugging at the builders as they continued along the street, "We're overrun with it of late."

[Finnigan]

Finnigan, suddenly aroused and on the alert, rolled onto his knees then bounced quickly to his feat. He had unsheathed the great axe strapped along his back, swinging it around then forward into his hands.

"Cadderly's men tracking me even here!?" Finnigan growled, having assumed the brisk run in had been a motivated kick to the gut. The kind he had felt many times in the past.

He suddenly took in his bearings, and environment. Had he actually managed to make it to Wessex? He looked at the, clearly important, figure infront of him, realized he was armed and suddenly dropped his axe to one side and found himself kneeling on the ground afore the Chamberlain.

"Excuse my impertinence, good sir." Finnigan spoke loudly, realizing he was still caked with blood, and making an extreme effort to keep himself steady.

[Destinova]

"I'll have none of your 'sirs'; I'm no Lord," Destinova guffawed loudly. "I've a mind to have these two clout you on the head for this soused up, sordid debauchery," he carried on, gesturing at the two guards who had come to pick him up, "...and right here in the middle day! Far too often are your kind found stinking up the streets, covered in... cuts and gashes... er- Hell, are you alright?"

[Finnigan]

"I've been worse," Finnigan muttered, cringing as he stands, balancing himself against his axe. A grim determined look in his pale grey eyes.

"Seems I may have accidentally bloodied your road," Finnigan groans as tries to wipe away some of the small crimson splotches with the heel of his boot, failing miserably. "As far as sordid debaucherys... 'fraid I haven't had the chance to indulge myself in any sense of the words, as of late."

"And as for stinking up the streets..." Finnigan ponders, leaning his head down to take a whiff, "Well, I can't quite claim I smell like a tulip."

He laughs heartily, quickly cringing as he clenches his side. A thick patch of blood having stained through his jerkin.

"Pray tell, where might I be so fortunate to find myself now?" Finnigan inquires of the Chamberlain.

[Aiden Morild]

Welcome to The Duchy!

[Harathor Fallanor]

Welcome to wessex! I hope you enjoy being part of our community.

[Finnigan]

Pleasure's all mine. Great to be here, and be able to meet you all.

[Chrono Veincrusher]

Nice to see you made it in, Mate.
Welcome to Wessex!

[Primus Perfidious]

Welcome to the Duchy.