Culture change to arabian. Of course I used the genderbending peach
Ioanna ó CatháinGender
: Faction of the CloverRole
: Lightning WardenWeapon
: Staff (It's just a giant piece of wood made in his free time no magic in it whatsoever. It can now be used as a lightning rod for his magic, watch him throw this shit at someone.
: Dominion over lightningLikes
Kids (Sometimes has toffees on him and will share.)
Trying to read (He's illiterate)Dislikes
People with no manners
Hair in his eyes
When it's too quietPersonality
: Despite his looks and mannerisms, Eoin really is a big pushover. Especially when it comes to children. He loves them to death and will be that scary, brother-bear type of big brother you've always wanted.
He has a HUGE complex about his lack of eyebrows and tries his best to smile all the time in hopes that he'll look less like a freak. All that does is enhance the creepy slasher expression, though he doesn't seem to realise it. He keeps his hair down as much as possible to hide this, but hates that it gets in the way.
Eoin takes his job really, really seriously and often loses sleep because of it. It doesn't help that sometimes he gets incredibly paranoid because of the ongoing power struggle between the factions ans he has to guard all the damn watches.
He hates himself a lot and spends much of his down time dwelling on his past mistakes and transgressions. Ever since dying in the airship crash, this sense of self-loathing has magnified, leading to him become more withdrawn and reclusive. He now constantly wanders Wonderland and cannot always be found outside the Clocktower as per his role requirement.History
: Originally, he was just a faceless whelp who really liked the Clocktower. So much so that he would make frequent trips all the way from his village in Spade territory to its gates and just sit around, whiling time away whittling things out of fallen branches. Because of his obsession with the Clocktower, he often skipped his lessons and remained uneducated.
During one of those many frequent trips between territories, he was caught by slavers and sold to a Duchess as a servant boy - a pretty face she could keep around, however strange. His time in service as a footman was... traumatic, to say the least. And even though he was mistreated by the mistress of the house in any number of ways imaginable and dumbly watched the happy-go-lucky boy his dear mother raised, twist into a seething, roiling mass of anger and hate, he found love in that hopeless place.
Her name was Misette, and she was the most beautiful thing he had ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. Long, horribly cheesy and totally inappropriate story short, she saved him. He was going to save her, save them, by planning and executing their daring escape. He failed. Word of their plans had reached the Duchess' ears, and was she going to let go of her boy toy so easily? Of course not. What was hers, was hers alone. Really, the sheer audacity of that maid. Nothing some poison won't solve.
So, stupid, happy and completely unaware, Eoin went, deep into the woods of Clover to meet his lover and was met with a crowd of armed men. The mistress's guards, headed by her royal guard - the white-haired, sneering bastard - surrounded him, and broke the news of dear, sweet Misette's death in the cruellest way imaginable. He had lost everything. He had nothing left. And still, the royal guard and his men laugh and spit upon the memory of his first love. What was he to do?
He killed them.
He let the years upon years of hate and anger take him, consume him and turn him into a force of nature. That day, the lightning answered his call.
Days turned into weeks, bled into months, pooling into a year. The constant stream of soldiers and mercenaries entering the forest looking to retake him and bring him before the Duchess kept dwindling until finally, it ceased. Every single day, for that entire year, he had killed people and left their still-ticking hearts for the taking. Now that they were gone, he didn't know what to do with himself.
So he wrecked the forest.
Took his anger out on the biggest, tallest, thickest tree and whittled away at it's coarse, heavy bark until his hands bled, and he couldn't stand. Fall over, sleep, wake up, do it all over again. Rinse, lather, repeat. Passing every day, wishing for death to come and take him so that he may be reunited with dear, sweet Misette. That is until a meddling young woman dragged him off to see an even more bothersome old man, and even though they weren't - will never be - Misette, in their own way, they saved him.
They were guardians. Of what, he did not know. They never got around to telling him and he certainly never thought to ask. She was a bothersome illusionist hack (she prefers the term magician), and he was a monster of an old man. Together, they taught him to value things; patience, chivalry, peace, diligence and manners and most importantly, himself.
Still, like all good things, they eventually come to an end. The pair disappeared one day. Just as suddenly as they barged into his life, they left. No tearful goodbyes, no heartfelt thank yous. Simply, poof. Gone, leaving behind the old man's staff, a change of clothes and two letters addressed to him.
One appointed him to his new position.
The other called him a moron and told him that they weren't needed any more and they couldn't baby him forever. He had to grow the hell up and take care of his own shit from now on like an adult. And to stop crying. Also, he could keep the cabin.
He has a smoking pipe and used to occasionally indulge himself, but sat on it by accident and hasn't been able to get it fixed.
If you make fun of his eyebrows, be prepared to get bludgeoned to death with a heavy
piece of wood
pile of metal.
He is skilled in hand to hand combat to make up for the days with no lightning.
He hates wearing ties.Inventory: fav.me/d6n5us4
------- (c) tooaya