Aislin Mac Conmara, The Roving Hunter
Character Name— Aislin Mac Conmara, The Roving Hunter
Player Name— Tiffiany Chambers
Concept— Supernatural hunter, comes from a secret clan order. Was given the name An Da Sheallach (Ahn'daa'haa-loo) as her true name upon reaching adulthood. At the age of 16, she fell in love with Delvin Marchadh , a young first mate of the Irtlandish Navy. Soon after he was called to sea on a dangerous mission from which he hadn't returned and presumed dead. The order was dissolved when the patron of the clan, Guinnein, was killed in an ambush. Aislin has then moved on to face the growing darkness in Fomoria.

Bio— "What a ghastly night" Aislin thought, as O Proinntigh (Prunty), her trusted steed trotted along the trail. Dry, crisp leaves had danced with such whimsical, yet petrified spirits swirling around as the two passed. Aislin couldn't help but to think of the three local women who were missing. The authorities were clueless on what was happening. No one ever thinks to look in the marsh, why should they? Aislin knew better, she had a hunch and that is all she needed. One particularly nasty beast came to mind, Clootie, as it was named in Irtland. She remembered her father telling her tales about a greasy-haired, goatish devil dragging women out of their beds in the middle of the night. It is known to be most foul, not only by what it did to it's victims before taking them to their watery graves, but smell it gave off as well. All accounts with this creature mentioned a sickening, terrible odor. She couldn’t afford to be nauseas, if she planned to kill this beast.

Now Aislin knew she was entering the marsh. All the crunch of the dried leaves turned into pitter patter of moistened earth. There was a foreboding chill was in the air, which orchestrated a sorrowful chorus as it blew though the trees. None was more brooding than the ivory sliver saturated in a sinister orange hue that hung quite low that night. With a sudden jump and a stern nay, O Proinntigh stopped in his tracks. Aislin quickly looked around to see what it was. Nothing, but the wet air and whispering darkness. "Some horse you are" she said with a sigh, she knew he would go no further. She hopped off the saddle and started trudging onward armed only with her blade and a pouch of blended mixture made from ash of a burnt witch, bone of a Pwka (Pooka), sea salt and sulfur. Aislin had to admit how much she loved this part of an all too familiar game. She wasn’t terrible afraid of the dark, in fact, it allowed her to rely on her other senses. Cautiously she waded through the wet, tall, grass with slow movements, listening intently to every sound.

A putrid stench rose and filled the air, almost overwhelming Aislin with its intensity. “A most ghastly night indeed”, she thought once more, as her eyes started to water. “It must be here!” Of this she was certain. She unsheathed her blade with one hand and readied the pouch in the other by pulling the strap loose with her teeth. Now she stood still and waited for any sound of movement, even straining her ears in doing so. It seemed that she heard nothing but the wind whistling until at last. Snap! It was near, but where? She knew that she had to trust her instincts. Splash! Snap! Splash! As much as she wanted to run straight at it, she waited. Splash! Splash! It was running faster now. Aislin readied her blade and stance. Not only did the stench grow more pungent, but she could hear its shallow breathing as it ran. One moment more and she could be its next victim. Now is the time to act. Almost completely blinded by her own tears, she swung around, blade out. The beast’s horrid shriek and her blood splattered face assured Aislin, that her aim was true. The beast retreated several paces holding its chest, before desperately attacking again. As it advanced, she used the pouch in her other hand, she threw the contents at the pathetic mess. As soon as the mixture touched the beast’s flesh, it sizzled and glowed. It recoiled in pain, wailing most hideously as it did so. Now that the beast was writhing around and thoroughly distracted, she rushed it, tackling it to the ground. Distracted yes, yet still very dangerous. Only thing between her and snapping jaws of death was the blade. It was only a matter of applied weight, slowing she pushed the blade farther and farther, sawing through the corners of it mouth. Its wailing was drowned by it own blood, but not ceased for it still was gargling and choking. This thing wasn’t going down that easy; Aislin felt the ripping and tearing of her thick cloak by its long, sharp claws. She desperately pushed the blade farther down through to the back of its head. Several more seconds of flailing limbs, then there was nothing. She waited a moment. Satisfied with no movement, she got up and relaxed. She took in a deep breathe and proceeded to cut off the damned thing’s head for good measure. Grabbing the head, she waded back to O Proinntigh, who was waiting. He was more than happy to leave and so was she.

She came to the silent town and headed for the main square, there she left the head with a note pinned right between its eyes and left just as quickly as she arrived. Early that next morning, a baker preparing for the day’s market, was sickened by the foul air. In search of the source, the baker came across the head. After the baker hysterically ran off to find the authorities, everyone gathered around it and stared at it in horror. Finally the head of the town guard showed up and this is what he read:
To Whom It May Concern:
This head belongs to the loathsome creature that killed the three local women you are looking for currently. You will find not only this beast’s body, but the three women’s bodies in the near by marsh west of here.
Sincerely, The Irtlandish Rover.

Lifepaths— Born Peasant, Hunter, Lead to Outcast, Outlaw, Lead to City Dweller, Dilettante, Evangelist
Age— 25


Wi Pe Ag Sp Po Fo
B5 B6 B5 B4 B4 B4


Hea Ref MW Ste Hes Res Cir Multi. Faith
B5 B5 B10 B7 5 B0 B2 x3.5
PTGS Su: B3 Li: B5 Mi: B7 Se: B8 Tr: B9 Mo: B10

Skills— Astrology B3, Authority-Wise B3, Circination B3, Cultist-Wise B4, Demonology B4, Empyrealia B4, Hunting B4, Obscure History B3, Orienteering B3, Sorcery-Wise B4, Spirit-Wise B3, Sword B5, Tracking B4


#1 It is my sole purpose to protect others from falling prey to spiritual forces.
#2 The best defense against spiritual threats is knowledge.
#3 I have no law other than the code of my clan, all else is secondary.

The Mac Conmara Clan Code
-The truth: we live in a spiritual world and can be confronted by many different kinds of beings of good, bad and neutral forces alike.
-Search out the truth in every situation.
-Clan members need not abide by local laws, many times it is necessary to break them, when in pursuit of the truth.


#1 Draws weapon when she hears a noise behind her.
#2 Use Second sight to read someone when suspicious of them.
#3 Shield the helpless when combat begins.


2 Deeds, 2 Fate, 5 Persona


1 Agility, 1 Cultist-Wise, 1 Demonology,
2 Perception, 2 Power, 1 Sword

Animals— Scáth (Skawh), black bull mastiff.
Gear— Arms (Run of the mill), Traveling Boots (Irtlandish), Traveling Cloak (Irtlandish styled, black with green knot work sewn around edges), Traveling shirt and pants (Irtlandish)
Property— Walled cottage with orchid just outside of Springdale
Reputations— 1D The Roving Hunter of Irtland, 1D The Emissary of Springdale
Relationships— Tirsan II (Letter of Recommendation)(Significant)
Spells or Rituals
Traits— [Char] Idealistic, [Char] Superstitious, [Dt] Believer, [Dt] Second Sight

Weapon Type I M S Add VA WS Strike Dist
Bare Fisted 2 4 6 2 0 Fast Shortest
Sword 4 7 10 2 0 Slow Shortest

Weapon Notes
1 Two-handed, may not be used with a shield2 May Great Strike

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