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Fri Feb 09, 2018 4:10 pm

Play by: Nick Robinson
Gender: Male
Age: Appears to be in his early to mid twenties
Species: Phooka Fae

Internal Aether: Phooka fae are nature spirits. They are either benevolent or malevolent and are either respected or feared. They have been known to bring prophecies of good fortune or be omens of bad luck. A dark natured fae, bad fortune follows Finn where ever he goes. He leaves pieces of his aether in his wake like fingerprints and people who tend to come in contact with him are struck with days to weeks of bad luck depending on how much time they spend around him. In greater numbers, phooka fae have been known to either produce bountiful harvests or devastating tragedies.

Shape shifting: Finn can take many forms because of his heritage. He has a human form but is also known to take the form of a goat, horse, dog, cat, rabbit, or raven. Always black and always with eyes gleaming red, there is usually something off or surreal about his animal forms that let people know something isn't quite right. Finn can also half transform and give himself characteristics of animals in human form. He uses this to terrify unwitting people and most often will take a mostly human form with a black goat's head.

Curses/Hexes: Being a fae with a dark nature, Finn is an expert at cursing or hexing people who have wronged him. He's notorious for "tagging" anyone who summons him through the veil into the mortal realm with a curse of some sort or a hex of bad luck for an extended period of time.


Iron: Incredibly toxic, touching iron causes scaring, intense pain, and burning. If ingested, it will poison a fae. If properties are lined with iron fences, Finn cannot even cross on to the property, and if bound in iron, he cannot channel any of his magic. Sometimes this prevents him from drinking tap water because of the trace amounts of iron that might be found in it.

Guns: Finn isn't much of a fighter. He relies on adept thinking and quick reflexes to get himself out of any bind he might find himself in. Finn cannot and does not know how to operate a gun.
A lanky sprite, Finn stands at approximately 6'2" and doesn't particularly look like he weighs too much. He has a slim build, dark hair, and hazelwood eyes. He carries himself in a way that takes up space while also managing to stay within his own. His body language is open and friendly despite the mischievous glint in his gaze and the slight, almost telling smile he wears.

He dresses moderately, never trying to draw too much attention to himself at any given moment because he has a tendency to demand it in other extravagant ways when he wants it. He prefers to wear darker, muted colors and simple attire.
Like a coin, there are two sides to Finn.

He's an observer mostly. There are times where he prefers to be in the background, to watch the going ons about him; not because he is shy or demure but because he's curious and nosy. He has a tendency to obsess over people and things, studying whatever whoever has stolen his eye closely until he learns all of the inner workings and grows bored of it. He discards people and things just as quickly as he picks them up and cares not what happens to them after he's lost all interest in it.

There are plenty of moments, though, when Finn demands to be noticed. He has an open aura about him, a charismatic charm that just seems to draw people in. He likes to tell stories and tall tales about adventures and magic and all of the places he has been over drinks and fires. He leaves an air of surrealism about him with words that are too honest not to be believed but so grandeur in nature, most think him crazy.

He's adventurous and daring and almost up to no good regardless of whatever persona he chooses to show. He treats people like play things and wherever he goes, bad fortune is sure to follow.
You creep into existence like a thought at the back of someone's mind: gradually present but not actualized. The mortal realm becomes increasingly aware of your presence well before you are and stories of you and your kind are passed around like tales of lore in the night. Some whisper of good prophet, bountiful harvests, helping hands, while others speak of black colts and red eyes and the threat of famine and bad fortune. You are not sure where you lie on the spectrum with your big eyes blinking through the veil, too curious for their own good.

The forest is thick with life, a single trail dividing it. There is the scent of heat in the air, the sun high and the foliage of the trees offer glimpses of cool shadows for the boy who plays. Young and too curious, he wanders the forest to waste his time before supper. When he spots a bushel of fresh berries ripened almost to the point of bursting with juices, he can't help himself and gorges on them despite the warnings his mother had previously given him.

Later that night, when the entire forest is silent with sleep, he awakens and peers outside through his bedroom window. The glass is cool, the night serene, and he spots a shaggy, black dog with gleaming eyes watching him. Young and too curious, he watches the dog wander closer and closer to the cabin until he is right outside the boy's window. "What are you doing?" the mutt asks the boy, "Aren't you going to come out and play?" and with little coaxing the boy is slipping from the cabin and following after the dog into the woods that surround his home.

When word reaches town that a boy has disappeared in the forest that houses a lake known as the phooka pool, scores of men go in to find him. He's safely returned home three days later.

She looks so solemn, dark eyes made of glass and melancholy pulling at her features in a disgusting way. She sits in the chalk circle, skirts billowing around her faint frame, and you're too curious. You get too close, step through the veil that she had pulled back and it closes behind you. She isn't afraid of your slight frame and heavy, horned head. She stares at you as you stare back and when she knows she has gained your interest, she speaks.

She tells you the story of a man with an iron heart and a silver tongue. A man she was supposed to wed but broke her heart instead and there's nothing she can do, she says, but there is everything you can do. And you do her bidding, too fascinated in the way that her hair glitters in the candle light. She shows you the man and you lean in, brush the dew drop tear from her cheek and watch as her skin lights with your aether. You disappear from her life for a month. You never part from the man and he hardly even notices you're there. Newly married and he loses his job. Newly married and his wife has already fallen in love with another. Newly married and he loses most of his fortune.

You come back to her and she doesn't even notice. All she does is thank you and tells you that you may leave but you don't. You obsess over her, you do not leave her side if you do not have to. You leave her little notes. Make her name appear in the town when things don't go as planned. Attention is drawn. Her coven grows irritated with her. Her grimoire is stolen. During a winter storm, her familiar becomes lost and that is when she notices you again and you realize what she is about to do. You try to escape but then nothing. You are thrust back through the veil.


A flock of ravens sit above a devastated crop. The farmer shakes his head, worn, and peers up into the trees. The ravens peer back, red eyes glinting in the sunlight.


The veil opens again and you step through.
Played by: Milo Time Zone: CSTContact: PM for AIM or discord
Referred by Kij is the answer to everything.
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Sun Feb 11, 2018 11:33 pm

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