Public Character Sheets

The public character sheets go here!

I might as well get started with things...

Rhiannon MacDiarmid, maga Ex. Misc.

Rhiannon hails from a small covenant in Wales that succumbed to Winter, but was born in Eire, near Dublin. Tall, with a commanding presence, she is used to having orders obeyed by those whom she considers her lessers. To those she considers her equals, she is polite, and well mannered. Her voice is clear, and is easily understood, even at a distance. It is also apparent that she leads an active life; She has little problem taking the saddle and bags off of her riding horse by herself. Her one outstanding physical feature is her auburn hair, plait in a single braid, reaching just past her knees. She is known in the Order mainly for her knowledge of legends and lore, which spans most of the tribunals. She does not speak of her Parens.

Eaghn MacDiarmid and Belle
Eaghn is Rhiannon's 10 year old son. He looks nothing like his mother, being stocky and solid, with curly black hair, and a mischevious and curious personality. If he has the gift, his mother can't tell. He wants to be one of the heroes of legend, mainly because he has grown up with the stories his mother has told him.

Since the youth is a handful, he is accompanied by his nurse, Belle. Quite pretty, Belle is kind and gracious, and few can find any reason to want to do her harm - she is nice to everyone. Strangely, the gift has no effect on her, Gentle, Normal, or Blatant. Sometimes, people find themselves doing what she politely asks them to do, even if they don't want to.


Mab, filia Babh, maga ex Merinita
One of the two remaining magi at Lough Caillte, Mab is best described as ... Mab. Eternally Cheerful, Happy, and Whimsical (apparently), she really has a hard time staying focused on any one thing for very long. Her appearance is at odds with her age; She appears to be a young woman, perhaps around 16-17 years old. However, her eyes give her age away, and few can look into her eyes for very long. Her hair is shoulder length, and black, and her blue eyes sparkle with ageless humor. Her clothes are often the colors of various flowers, however purple is a favorite color (not royal purple). She often goes barefoot, regardless of the season, and has a somewhat unkempt look about her.

Miach (aka Cuana)
If Mab is about, then her familiar, Miach (Mab calls him Cuana, the name she gave him as a puppy) is not far away. He is one of the last Irish Wolves, often better known as Dire Wolves, still walking the mundane world. It is often disconcerting to meet a wolf who has no problem looking you in the eyes. He is gruff and serious, a balance to Mabs' cheerful wimsy. Still, he's friendly enough. Despite the issue with his name, he loves his mistress deeply, and will make sure no harm comes to her. Fortunately for the livestock of the village, he prefers vension to beef. He knows of places where Irish Deer still roam, and that is where he hunts.

Seamus O'Connor, Consortis
Seamus is the 3rd eldest of Angus O'Connor's 7 sons. He's had some training at arms, as have most young men at the covenant, and knows the area and it's inhabitants well enough he knows when someone new is in the area. He is of average height, has brown eyes, wears his brown hair cut neatly, and has the beginnings of a beard. Like most of the Lough Caillte covenfolk, he dresses in good clothes, but not fancy ones. He is generally likeable, reasonably intelligent, and is soon to get married to one of the village girls, much to the disappointment of a lot of hopeful young women.

Diedre, maga ex Flambeau
The other remaining maga at Lough Caillte. She is order to Mab's disorder. Everything about her says "nothing special" - she is of average height and build, her hair is a mousy brown (it tends to change color with her mood, turning redder and brighter), worn shoulder length. Her green eyes, though, miss little going on around her, and she can yell loud enough to be heard across the Lough. She is always wearing 6 rings, a set of earrings. and a torc.

Aonghas Ua Conchobair(Angus O'Connor), Consortis
Angus is the steward of the covenant. He is the main link between Mab and Diedre and the O'Connor family, who rule the area known as the "Fifth of Connacht". He is a big man, of heavy build, and beginning to bald. This is a man of both war and peace, having served in his cousin Cathal O'Connor's army, fighting the Normans, and having learned his letters while he was a boy. He is a shrewd thinker, and shows a great deal of common sense. He has been dealing with magi of all sorts for the last 20 years, having helped his father before taking up the position himself.

He makes sure the mundane needs and obligations of the covenant are met, and handles the coin. He also has to deal with the disruptions caused by Mab's help. which he admits helps keep one's life "interesting".


Fabrica Diabolica, magus Verditius

Fabrica (among Magi he often goes by Fabrica, among grogs he is Fab) is of average height and looks, well built and fit, not one that lives in a lab his whole life. His hands and arms are toned from years in a forge, and his eyes are focused with intense clarity. He would be attractive to many for both his looks and obvious success (judging by the quality of his clothes), yet animals bolt at his approach, children weep, and people cross themselves and make way. His Gift hangs on him like a malevolent cloud. Across his back are three exquisite looking swords, arranged one after the other in a complex looking leather apparatus, in his hand is a beautifully carved iron shod staff, decorated with jewels, his belt is adorned with pouches containing various tools . A bitter old nag on a long leash pulls a small handcart filled with tools and trinkets.

Caleb Ithwen Shield Grog, Custo

Caleb has lived near the Loch all his life, but only recently, the last 5 years or so, has he sought employment at the Covenant. His obvious strength and toughness made him a natural for the Grog turb. Not the brightest of fellows, they decided to train him in one of the simpler tasks; taking a blow meant for the magus. He has enough of an attention span to handle that task…most of the time. He’s truly a carefree soul, the Gift doesn’t bother him as much, or at least he gets over it rather quickly. Fighting isn’t something he thinks about too much either, he just happens to be good at it, and he likes how the women respond to him.

Mathius filius Caesar, magus Verditius

Mathius is of slightly below average height, but his body seems more muscular than most people. He is of middling years, but pale, as if he rarely sees the sunlight. His eyes are shifty, seldom looking in one place for too long and rarely meeting people’s gaze. Those who meet him distrust him, he has the air of a criminal, but when people actually start to talk to him he claims to be a scholar. Mathius will talk for hours about the book that he wrote and the students he has taught, in fact anyone spending time with him will quickly realize that he is consumed by pride.
His clothing is well made and he has a collection of jewellery about his body. On his left arm he wears a leather guard with 11 studs set into it – a careful observer would notice that each stud has a unique symbol.

The circle of men cheered in the darkened barn, heavy with the smell of horses and hay and fighting, illuminated in golden stripes by the sunlight breaking in through the mismatched timber walls. Killian Mulcahy hit the sodden floor, his head bouncing off the ground. But he wasn't awake to feel it.

Connor roared, screaming down at the man he'd just felled, willing him to get up. His chest and throat swelled as he screamed again. Blood and snot and spit caked his moustache. His nose was broken again and his knuckles were split but he wanted more.

Old scruffy Fagan stepped forward to raise Connor's hand in victory but Connor pulled away, still looking at Killian as his men dragged him back. "Come on, stand 'im up! Put 'im back up!" Connor menaced, his fists clenched and dripping red by his side, willing the fight on.

"No, Connor. See 'im, Connor. He's done, man." Feargal Mulcahy stood from where he'd crouched tending Killian. "Tek ya money and be done, Connor. He'll fight na more today." Feargal looked into Connor's raging eyes. Conner looked from Feargal to Killian, dragged away as the crowd of men parted, and back to Feargal. His breathing changed, stuttering as he began to realise the fight really was over.

Fagan held out his cap, filled with the winnings. Connor took it and stooped to pick up his shirt from the dirt where it lay. He made his way, backing away from the crowd, to the barn doors. "Any one of yas. Any of ya Mulcahy boys. Any time." And with that, his blood still racing, his own breathing ringing in his ears and his hand smearing the mess from his face, he went to find the others from Lough Caillte.

Connor Mac Connor is a natural born fighter. He'll fight any man, anywhere for any odds. He'll win. He's loyal to the covenant alright but he has a temper. He's never struck a magus yet but some say he's never far from it. Mind, those are usually them as has an axe to grind.

Here's the magus. Still tweaking the companion.

Stephan Jerbitonis filius Augustus, Magister in Artibus

A very charming magus who appears to be middle-aged (perhaps a little over 30) and very personable, at least for a man of his profession. When not wearing the robes of a Magister in Artibus, he is often found in the clothes of a modestly well-off townsman. He keeps himself clean-shaven and his brown hair short. He has a strong chin, intense blue eyes, and a caring, positive, and forthright demeanor.

A short conversation with him reveals that he is exceptionally intelligent and incisive and that intellect is focussed on understanding for greater knowledge rather than using for power. His intellectual interests can be descibed as catholic but he'll admit to a slightly greater interest in the mind and body. He seems to have no martial interests for himself, but is not a pacifist.

When he speaks of his travels, he speaks more of the people that he's met then the places he's been. He'll occasionally joke about how it always takes longer for him to get anywhere because of his bum leg but then launches into some funny anecdote about his "travelling companion," Anselom, an albino donkey

If there is any mystery around him, it is that there seems to be no mystery. He hides little, shares generously (both knowledge and resources), and appearetly has no agenda beyond "giving as generously to others as God has given to me."

Corvus Lux, Magus of Bjornaer, Son of Clan Ilfetu

Corvus Lux, mundane son of a sea-port whore, bastard child of a nameless sailor.
Corvus Lux, keeper of Bjornaer secrets.
Corvus Lux, last of a humbled lineage, seeker of a forgotten heritage.

His vulgar name was Cormac Lugh, a name he has left behind along with the mother who gave it to him. He embraces the Order and his House for they gave him sanctuary against the life cruel destiny had laid out for him.

Corvus is small and capricious, an adventurous spirit knowing the value of secrets. Brought up in Clan Ilfetu, Corvus is destined to be a guardian of Bjornaer Mysteries. He already knows many of the chants and places and rituals but has yet to undertake the ordeals for himself.

He regards fairies as potential friends while mindful of the threat they pose. He sees the power of Angels and Demons and thinks their games beyond him. As for the creatures and beasts of the magic realm, those things that hover just out of sight, those things that want... he knows their power and dreads their return.

There is but one thing that strikes dread into Corvus' heart - The Raven King. This spirit lives in the boundary between Faerie and Magic and has picked out Corvus for some unknown end. No matter how distant, no matter how protected by Parma or Aegis, the Raven King finds him and Corvus is compelled to do his bidding.


"Aye, that's what they call me, Brick. Not because I've a thick skull, ya ken, but because I'm hard as rock, and use me mind when I have to when strength won't do the job alone. And if'n you crack a joke about me height, I'll be sure to tie you into a knot..."

Take a large man, and then edit a couple of feet out of him, and you have Eithne, better known to the covenant as "Brick". He pretty much fills a doorway from 5' down. He's broad shouldered and stocky, bald, with a short beard. He's typically friendly, though he's a bit touchy on the subject of his height (or lack thereof); Humor at his expense will get you a demonstration of his skill as a wrestler, though humor at his own expense is common. He prefers to be called Brick; Eithne is one of those ambiguous names that could go to either a boy or girl.


OK, folks. Here's the smith that I'll be playing.


Colin Smith, Companion

Hard, tough, strong, unyielding. These are words people use to describe iron. You’ve heard tales as a child where there were men made of iron. In Colin, you have now met a man of iron, and the stories now seem a little pale. His demeanor and appearance combine is such a way so as to make you think of anvils and hammers. Iron bends to this man's will.

He's simple in the way that he worked the dross out of his own life. In the way that injustice must be described as such. That capriciousness is for birds and breezes and young children. And that serious work requires a serious attitude. His work habit could best be described as "deliberate and unhurried." He paces himself through the day and finishes when the day's work is done.

You look at this man and you think that maybe the iron is actually in him. His face and head are horribly scarred. There are a number of small scars, but two very large ones mar his visage in a way that makes you wince in sympathy. The largest scar starts from high on his forehead near the hairline somewhat to the right of center, and then travels between his brows across the bridge of his nose down to just the left of his mouth to just below the chin. The second largest starts just above the left eyebrow, slicing lengthwise through then crosses the other scar, again at the bridge of his nose, and then continues under the right eye. Both scars are particularly ragged and look as if someone had rubbed dirt or sand in them to prevent them from healing properly. To add insult to injury, he is missing most of his right ear. The remains of that ear are just as ragged and puckered as the scars. You are sure the pain must have been extraordinary. Lesser men would have given over the money, told whatever secret, betrayed whatever friend or agreement. Colin perseveres.

Yet for all that, there is a mystery in that needs to be answered. Why does an active and joyful family – a pretty and industrious wife, and five children ranging from 8 years to 10 months – obviously love him so? What is it about this cold iron man that they see and that you don’t?

[color=indigo][size=150]NPC Magi[/size]

First met at welcoming feast.

Sean Dulidh (pron "Shawn Dooley") A senior redcap, member of Harco, typically at large in the order. Shows up wherever the Mercere have business to be taken care of. Something of a rogue and a tomcat, known to have broken hearts in many ports. friendly.

"dressed in well worn travelling clothes. He might seem unremarkable save for the fact that the clothes are in better condition than most people's new clothes. Several other little things, seen from this distance, mark him as a step above those unloading the wagons."

Quintus is the senior Quasitor in the tribunal. Hs Guernicus. Eye for details. Trained at Duresca, expert at the arts of persuasion, intrigue, and investigation. Currently resides at Circulus Ruber, making sure that actions taken against the Normans by covenants on the eastern side of Ireland don't step beyond the code. His Brother is Flavius (below).

"One looks like one of the old roman statues come to life, with blonde hair, square jaw, trim build, and authoritative air about him."

Flavius is Quintus' brother and bodygaurd, and a senior Flambeau hoplite. His normal stomping grounds are the Transylvanian and Levant tribunals; He is one of the most senior hoplites still on active duty. Iron willed, disciplined, with a commanding presence. He is the kind of man other men want to follow, wherever he leads.
"an armored figure; The armor is a copy of the roman lorica, the heavy banded armor of the common roman soldier. The flowing scarlet cape and sword he carries helps complete the image of a legionnaire returning home from the depths of time..."

[b]Xerxes[/b] - Bonisagus, known only by name, not yet arrived. Due in Summer (at earliest) to copy Glendower's texts & etc. for Durenmar.

[color=indigo][size=150]Past Magi of Logh Caillte Covenant[/size]

(And see also the complete discussion at The Welcoming Feast & Council Meeting)

Verditius, Old, died in his sleep last winter. Torsten died not as the result of his longevity potion failing, but due to a vendetta/cursed necromantic amulet (since recovered), the same one that killed Sylphie. (That his potion failed may or may not be true, or tied in.)

(Both the Verditius who caused Torsten and Sylphie's death, and the necromancer who created the amulet, are still being sought.)

The healer, ex Misc., overextended herself trying heal people and succumbed to a cough and chill. Sylphie died of a sudden illness, that while not wholly mundane in it's origin, the cause was not here at the covenant.

Kallias Delphinus
Jerbiton, went on a sea expedition, to the west. The wreckage of his ship, along with his body, washed up in the Aran isles 2 weeks after he left. The destruction of Kallias ship was due to a number of things; Pirates, Storms, wounded crew. His last log book mentions all of the above, and sea monsters. It's common enough on most maps to say 'Here there be dragons.' on the western edge. Perhaps he encountered such a creature. There was enough evidence left of the ship to show such damage... The fight must have been glorious

Bonisagus, twilight; Glendower's twilight may, or may not be his final twilight, though we suspect it is. He was experimenting in the art of Vim, according to his last lab notes; His body disappeared as well this time. (This was witnessed by Mab.)

Marcus, Daggin Plantard's bodyguard

Well, it looks like Daggin chose to suit his personality. There is a sense of propriety about the athletic man that just bent over to whisper something to him. He's clearly a bodyguard and walks with that lethal sort of manner that many in his profession choose, but there are some key differces.

First, his clothes are in particularly good shape and he is well-groomed. Further, his manner and speech demonstrate some level of learning. Second, there is an air of order about him. He knows where everything belongs is seems to be particularly well aware of where something shouldn't be. Third and finally, he appearantly feels no need to make himself obvious. In fact, he just seems to fade into the background when he doesn't move.

[color=darkred]{edited for my own terrible spelling, GAH!}


Azaelle stands about six feet tall and although she is beautiful, she always looks a bit lost. A while back she was well dressed but it has taken some spit shine and magic to keep her once elaborate clothes from showing the wear and tear they've been through. She has eyes dark as pitch and long blonde hair that she does not keep tied back. Beauty, however, has always seemed to cause her more harm then good and has not always been a comforting attribute. If only that was worst of her problems. Still, she tries to maintain a pleasant demeanor.

Wherever Azaelle might be, her younger brother Asa and her friend and weapons master Uza are not far away.
Asa has the countenance of an angel. He is very attractive and for some reason, beauty doesn't seem to plague him the way it does his older sister. Perhaps he is just better at dealing with people. He has golden blonde hair and pale blue eyes and a habit of singing as he walks, casting a warm calming effect that is nearly tangible. Everyone likes Asa. Uza would like to hit him with her sword. Not hard enough to HURT him. It's just that he's so... CHEERY.

Uza is the weapon's master and companion of Azaelle. She has brown hair cut to shoulder length and grey steely eyes. She stands at-least a head taller than Azaelle and it is clear to all that she has giant blood. Uza finds that if she dresses as a man then people might mistake her for one and this is actually less annoying than trying to go about her daily business in a gown. She can be pessimistic but she takes good care of Azealle and even Asa. Those few people that get to know her will find that despite a gruff exterior, she is genuinely kind hearted and pleasant. She is a very good friend and a very formidable foe.

Daggin's unusual heritage leaves him duskier than an average Frank, with dark hair over a dark complexion, but impossibly brilliant dark blue eyes. He also has webbed fingers and toes, the former he hides with exceptionally long sleeves as a habit, aided by simple spells when traveling in public. His stature is less than average, but his demeanor is larger than his frame, and his arrogance larger than both together - while he can hardly claim to have been raised nobly, he abhores anything he would deem as "common", and is often presumptuous in his self-perceived status of being "first among equals". He is aloof and even condescending to the common man, acting the part of his royal blood, but treats other nobility of any blood as welcome equals. With magi his attitude varies, depending in no small part on superficial attributes such as mundane education and birth status. His Gift is of average intensity, tho' any spending time near him will become aware that it seems he is inoffensive to animals.

He has a familiar, an ermine (aka stoat, when not white in Winter), and at rare times Daggin's nose sniffs the air curiously, his hair shows a growing a tendency to become touched with white in winter, his eyes slightly reflecting red at night, all growing more prominent as he ages and his magical ties to his familiar strengthen.

Albertus Pictor Ex Bonisagus as black hair with a tint of grey and is beginning to lose hair on the top of his head. His quite tall but slender in body shape and his eyes glow with determination. He is usually seen in a robe that once upon a time where an item of good quality and wears a cap on his head. Those who speaks with Albertus is soon bored if their interest isn’t in the latest of magical research. The only thing that can change Albertus conversation from magic theory is art, in his heart Albertus is a artist even if his skill leaves something to be desired. He dreams of inventing something that will ease the magi’s life as the mundane population are growing, vis diminishing and dominion spreading out. It is Albertus sincere belief that one day the Order of Hermes will be as accepted as the church.

He is constantly accompanied by his familari who is a highly intelligent crow that shapeshift into a man and aids Albertus in laboratory work. The crow is very protective about Albertus and mistrusts most in his vicinity until anything other has been determined.