Personality

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Oisín is a bit of a prat, in truth; having taken the concept of control and discipline a little too hard. Whatever soft side he has is kept nicely under wraps (though it does exist)- and while he doesn’t seek out opportunities to be mean, he can’t often resist the opportunity to push someone's buttons. However, he lights up with ‘interesting’ conversation, especially of a historic variety. He does not consider himself particularly fit for Ambassadorship, being somewhat aware of his faults. Still, he’s settled nicely into the role of a monster-hunter, still being a brash youth under his stilted exterior. Should you succeed in annoying him, the smaller jabs and pokes to get under your skin will devolve into straightly-given insults, and a grave enough insult will get you shouted at.

WC | 132

History

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Born the only child to a older and recently-widowed mother in Siregal, Oisin was regarded with cautious optimism; someone, his mother hoped, to keep her company in her old age. He was pampered in his mother’s own odd, strict ways; she listened, and she cared, but was a distant sort; striving to ‘set him up for his future’, rather than giving him the comforts he may have otherwise desired.

When a strange blueish seam began to open along his neck, around his eleventh birthday, his mother made a snap decision; get out of Siregal, away from the only home she had known, and bring her very-likely-a-mage son to Ivras, where he could be taught to control his magic, rather than their chaotic homeland.

Oisín did not care for the less tropical climes, but the education was welcome; especially as his split neck lead to his head entirely detaching, though never floating far from his neck. Trying to move it away too far from his neck lead to a fair amount of physical resistance and screaming; the experiment was never repeated.

His education caused Oisín to become a stuffy Monster hunter, all shadows and ice with combat utility and little else. He’s a proud and slightly vain creature, caring more for his own personal reputation than anything else.

This may be for the best, for any interpersonal relationships he’s managed to maintain long-term have a habit of ending in explosive shouting matches.

After gaining notoriety for his heavy involvement in three great hunts, Oisín found a nagging, uncomfortable feeling in the back of his mind, that seemed to… guide his fog… and his feet. The first time he followed it, it drew him to a slaughterhouse. The next, to a hanging. The next, to a barfight with a miserable conclusion.

He realised, belatedly, that he was drawn to death, and has grappled with the emotional consequences since.

Still, he hopes it will make him a fine hunter, as every monster must eventually die. He is honing the sense to lead him to the next monster’s location, trying to find meaning in the way the mist from his throat is whipped by unseen winds.