Private Tales An Unknown Close to Home

A private roleplay only for those invited by the first writer

Fingal Eadgils

An Ax to Grind
Character Biography
Alliria had been a rich hunting ground for a time. But those with power were beginning to figure out there was a pattern to what was taking their people at night, and he'd been pushing his luck far too much to remain around the large city for too much longer.

The bag he kept on his back full of little tools to keep himself occupied as time passed to wipe away the memories of the short lived mortals. Fun times had been spent of a night in the taverns after work. The woodshop he'd been employed to finding his skill far beyond that of a man seemingly his age. A fact he had been made keenly aware of by the old heads around the place. They'd stooped and hawked over his work, unsure if they were impressed or angered by his appearance some years ago now.

But time was equal parts his ally as it was his enemy.

The elderly remembered his face. Wondered aloud about how he had been able to remain so young during the passing of years. Posed questions to the younger folk about Fin the woodsman. If he had always been so spry and youthful in their memory as well until the questions had fallen silent to the .

Cautious glances cast his, only growing as he tried to dismiss the questions. Only postponing the inevitable before he'd been sent to the blacksmith to fetch a special set of tools. He'd handed each tool over to the head wood worker by request. A confused stare as each tool was examined by Fin before changing hands and the man had dismissed him for the day without explanation. Fin had made his final hunt during the night before disappearing from Alliria to satiate his well quelled hunger.

He'd only needed to do so every half century, and by then most everyone that could remember the incident had either passed into senility, or the matter had been attributed to some strange coincidence.

Hardly the worry of a man that looked human, and acted as much aside from his towering form.

The Falwood however held long it's memories, and the trees seemed unhappy with his presence. A fact that only revealed itself through a series of twisting paths that always led him back to the strange stone that marked the beginning of a trail point. His eyes, the same shade as the ferns that dotted the area, scanned for some form of foul play at hand. Some stranger that might reveal themselves by accident as his hands firmly held onto each hip. His head turning slowly to allow his peripherals to catch movement.

He'd hunted many a times in his life. Finding the motion to be the most effective in low light and even during the brighter hours of the day when he seldom hunted for fear of discovery. Resigning himself to some form of natural punishment against the grand order of the world, a gusty huff had him drawing closer to the stone marker and setting his pack beside it.

Linking his hands together before reaching them to the sky to work out the soreness in his back. The long cloak around his shoulders caught no breeze as his shirt protested against the movement.

A pleased sound coming from the man as he finished his stretch and shook his head.

"Suppose a break would be good." His breeches pulled up as he twisted, holding a hand out to help him sit beside the stone and get comfortable before pulling a small block of wood from the backpack and setting it in his lap. Opening another protective wrap inside the bag and pulling free one of the smaller whittling knives and tracing his hand along the edge.

Pleased to see the long walk hadn't damaged the edge, he took a final look around him, feeling the unease of being watched settle over him.

Whoever had been watching him was far better than most humans that had attempted the feat. They hadn't stumbled into his sight, nor had they made a sound during the time he'd noticed the unease. He'd been hopeful it was just a particularly wary animal. The feeling however of caution in his mind had been a signal that it was something far more potentially dangerous to him than a simple beast-creature.

The small block of wood found his hand as his gaze fell away from the trees and grass around him. Pulled itself free from staring at the shadows that dotted the scenery to focus on something more tangible than a feeling.

Eyes were concealed in the darkest shadows the trees could cover, but the leannan sidhe had sheathed her wings, watching on as the heavy importance of duty and task was placed upon her by the King she chose to serve. None could be trust with such a secret, not unless they were born to hear them and keep them for herself, to feed her greed and her curiousity.

But her eyes, of crystalline hues that should not be found in the red rust, bore into the figure as he now turned to look at the surroundings. Her presence alone could not be hidden like her wings could, but it was now that she chose to step out and be seen.

"Yes, a break as you have walked many miles." The smile on her face seemed stretched, unnatural, but once they got past the dark beauty she adorned, they could see the pleasantness in which she carried herself in always.

"I have a task, in which the likes of you is best equipped and suited for." The smile never waned, never faltered.

"The King of the Spring Court has entrusted me to deliver this task, but I need assistance." The sidhe spoke, smile intact and unchanging.

Fingal Eadgils
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He'd felt something watching him. That much had been correct at least. So his paranoia hadn't been for naught. Even knowing that he was being watched couldn't stop his natural reaction to surprise. Hus whole body had jolting when the figure had stepped out to reveal itself.

Surprise wasn't something he felt often, but foreign woods didn't put him at ease as she spoke. And his ease not yet found until it was clear she didn't intend to harm him.


"This a habit, walking round the woods I mean asking for help, or a new thing? Ah never you mind." Recovering the whittling knife from its dangerous positioning in his lap as it and the wood block to the side. Giving him enough time to cool his nerves with the question that expected no answer.

"I haven't bothered the courts in a long while. Suppose it couldn't hurt to indulge one request." Chewing the inside of his lip as he looked her over. One eye squinting slightly as he looked her over, one hand grabbing the bag while the other pushed him upright.

"Before we get on with it though," He leaned forward enough to be at the same height as her. "What should I call you? I don't think you'd much like bein' called short one or sawed off."

He rose quickly with a smirk, a thumb pointed at himself.

"Call me Fin, as in we'll see about finishing this task you've got. After you tell me what's to be done." An all too pleased smile forming from the smirk.

The Sidhe canted her head to the side, as if someone where whispering to her. Rust hues regarded the one before her, a good few feet distance between them.

The smile was, still, ever present.

"You may call me The Keeper. Until you have proven yourself to The Keeper, then I shall give you another moniker."

She lifted her hand, beckoning him to follow. As if they were gloved, from fingertip to just shy of her elbow was a shimmering of darkness. "Come along now, allow me to show you the task I am in need of your assistance."

And she would lead him towards a nearby brook, getting on her knees and leaning over the gentle stream. "I need to get to Suntory Market for an investigation. Absolute discretion is advised." Her inky hands cupped some of the water and brought it to her face, washing it before drying with the ends of her dress. She stood again, turning to look up at the one called Fin. "Accompaniment is all I ask. Am I right in assuming you are well traveled, Friendly Fin?"

Fingal Eadgils