Flinnegan the Godfather of the GhettoFlinnegan created on 25th of February 2020, and is currently 31 years old (118 hours played).
Title: the Godfather of the Ghetto
Class: halfling thief
- Halflings are Peculiar - posted at 2020-08-12 03:58:42
Halflings are PeculiarIt was an early morning, on a slightly overcast, cool day when Flinnegan
was born. It never ended up raining that day, nor did the sky ever clear
until the next morning. Most of the halflings in the village enjoyed the
break from the glaring sun, without having to trade it for a day of mud and
rain. But to summarize, Flinnegan was born on a dull, dreary day. And he's
pretty sure the gods decided that it was his responsibility to make up for
it through the rest of his life, by making everyone elses life anything but
His childhood was much the same as most other halfling child's upbringing.
Travel every morning from their village to the nearby city of Seringale, and
spend the morning and afternoon robbing dumb adventurers. Meanwhile his
mother would spend the day at the market, or at the local tavern drinking
with the other halfling moms. Meanwhile Flinnegan's father, and many of the
other male halflings of the village, would spend the day doing odd errands,
like hiding bodies, or burning down houses of people who owed them money.
Flinnegan, and many other children from the village, learned other important
things along the way, like how to read and write, from an elf who owed the
village protection money, and how to use a handful of different weapons from
a dwarf who spent several summers in their village, drinking the towns fine
apple cider, and smoking several barrels of their smooth, earthy tabaac.
Flinnegan became an adult, as any child who doesn't die, is bound to become.
His village placed very few expectations upon their young adults, don't owe
anyone large sums of money, don't offend anyone who is powerful to raze the
village, don't join any cults. This was all and well and good for several
years, as Flinnegan lived out of his parents house, and joined the other
males of the village in their everyday tasks. But as some are prone to do,
and not completely uncommon for people born in their village, he grew a
little squirrely playing it safe, and went on a hard bender. Not a bender
as in someone who goes on a wild drinking spree, no. A hard bender, as in a
common born and bred criminal who goes out of his comfort zone, and robs
people no one with any common sense with, would rob. The sheer thrill of
taking from powerful wizards, knights, shamans, and even city guards, was
like no enjoyment he'd ever had before. He felt like he'd spent the first
twenty years of his life living in a gray and dreary world (much like the
day he was born), but now everything was better! Food and drink tasted
better, the halfling orgies he attended in the village were even MORE fun,
but the sense of satisfaction from knocking out the richest and most
powerful idiots of the realms, gave a sense of euphoria unrivalled.
Oftentimes, he'd just discard their possessions in the river, not having the
patience to fence them, othertimes he'd discreetly place them up for
auction, just to see if the owners were too proud to buy them back or not.
Of course, there's consequences to any action, and not only could he no
longer return to the village to hide out after he'd enraged enough powerful
people, he had to persuade his immediate and extended family to move
somewhere a bit more quiet and discreet. But as halflings are often prone
to wild behaviors that often incite a murderlust in the other folks of
Serin, this went quite smoothly. And while sad he couldn't go visit his
family often, or stay in the village any longer, the knowledge he could now
rob and incite with no real threat of retaliation made up for it by
far(halflings from his village weren't too known to consider their own
mortality). The mere idea of pitting his cunning and reflexes against the
bravest Knight, and the most sinister cunning minds of Legion, made up for
it by far.
And so he began his rampage upon the goodly, and the not-so-goodly folk of
the Realms, instigating many campaigns of promised death upon his body, and
many close investigations of wrong-doing from the lawkeepers of the cities.
The whole time doing whatever it took to get that rush from treading the
razor's edge of promised doom placed upon him. Often this would come in the
form of robberies, other time from cutting remarks to people with thin skin.
Anything short of murder or robbing from the poor, seemed reasonable to him,
in order to achieve that level of nirvana from depriving people of their
pride and possessions.
Thick and wild, dirty blonde hair is combed back from his eyes hanging up
in the air over the back of his head. Kept at bay only by a generous
application of some oily paste streaked through it, it runs long enough to
shade the back of his neck. The hair on the sides of his head however, is
kept quite short, with only a few long tufts sticking out at the front of
his ears to stand out. His face shows a touch of weathering, with crow's
feet around his blue eyes and worry lines creasing his forehead. Short
enough to mistaken for a human child, he seems fairly thin, though there's
the outline of a potbelly forming above his belt. His hands are massively
disproportionate with his body, sporting wide palms with long slender
fingers. Thick hair runs along the back of them, though it seems to have
been chafed off near the tips of his fingers, which themselves are heavily
callused. His legs, though a touch short for his frame, seem sturdy and
covered in thick curly hair, connecting to the oversized hairy feet that his
people are so well known for.
Logs mentioning Flinnegan: