Killian Corvis

Wayward son of the Morrigan

PANTHEON Tuatha de Dannan
GOD The Morrigan
CALLING Wayward Son
NATURE Survivor
Physical Social Mental
Strength ●●●●○○○○○○ Charisma ●●○○○○○○○○ Perception ●●●○○○○○○○
■■□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□
Dexterity ●●●●○○○○○○ Manipulation ●○○○○○○○○○ Intelligence ●●○○○○○○○○
■■□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□
Stamina ●●●●○○○○○○ Appearance ●●●●○○○○○○ Wit ●●●●○○○○○○
■■□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□ □□□□□□□□□□□
□ Academics __________ ○○○○○ □ Craft ___________ ○○○○○ ■ Melee __________ ●●●●●
■ Animal Ken __________ ●●○○○ □ _______________ ○○○○○ □ Occult __________ ●●●○○
□ Art __________ ○○○○○ □ _______________ ○○○○○ □ Politics _________ ○○○○○
□ _______________ ○○○○○ □ Empathy __________ ○○○○○ □ Presence __________ ○○○○○
□ Athletics __________ ●●●○○ ■ Fortitude __________ ●●●○○ □ Science __________ ○○○○○
□ Awareness __________ ●●●○○ □ Integrity __________ ●●○○○ □ _______________ ○○○○○
■ Brawl __________ ●●●○○ □ Investigation __________ ○○○○○ □ _______________ ○○○○○
□ Command __________ ○○○○○ □ Larceny __________ ○○○○○ □ Stealth __________ ●●○○○
□ Control __________ ●○○○○ ■ Markmanship __________ ○○○○○ □ Survival __________ ●●●○○
□ _______________ ○○○○○ □ Medicine __________ ●●○○○ ■ Thrown __________ ●○○○○
Shillelagh ●●●●● Shillelagh 4 1 +7B 0 0
Leather Jacket ●●○○○
● Animal Communication ●●●●●●●○○○ Courage ●●●●○ Dodge DV 7
● Green Thumb □□□□□□□□□□□ Expression ●○○○○ Parry DV 7
● Blessing of Bravery Intellect ●○○○○ Join Battle 7
●● Battle Cry Piety ●●●○○
Crushing Grip B 9 L 5 A 2 Type: Biker Leather B 3 L 1 A 0 ●●●○○○○○○○○○ Move Dash Jump
Holy Bound □□□□□□□□□□□□□ 6 12 18/36
Damage Conversion
Untouchable Opponent
Cat’s Grace

For a fertility goddess The Morrigan isn’t very nurturing. Once she had carried Killian to term she left him with a foster family, more of a foster cult, but it was all the same to her. Killian was raised by strictly religious parents with way too many foster kids. Killian was a beautiful child, but reticent and not prone to making friends of the other kids.

Often Killian would sit alone in the yard beneath a large and dying red oak and invent small games for himself. The other children would watch him playing in the dirt and dead leaves all the while mumbling to himself, they had no idea that that tree was Killian’s best friend and that he spoke to it to help it stay strong. Frequently amongst the branches of the tree a great crow would perch, it’s head cocked and a single eye gazing down at the raven haired boy. Killian began to think of the crow as his friend as well, and would often include it in his conversations with the tree. Despite his foster parents advice, pleading and later demands, Killian continued to spend time with the tree and even though the adults and the other children had long since given up on the tree it seemed to thrive under the boy’s attention.

As he grew into a teenager Killian grew lean and strong, his solitary nature kept him away from most sports but he eventually joined the track team, becoming a star distance runner, quickly outpacing his opponents and then staying always far enough ahead of them that he had only himself and the path for company. Winning his events at several track meets, along with his angelic good looks, led to an increase in popularity for Killian and though he had always
enjoyed his solitude he found that he quickly became the centre of a large and varied group of admirers. No teenage would be able to resist that kind of attention, especially from the pretty fire haired cheerleader Bridget. Soon Bridget and Killian were all but inseperable, much to the anger of both of their parents, who thought the teens were far too young for the speed their relationship was growing. Eventually, as it always does, their relationship led to an exploration of their sexuality. Laying on a blanket beneath the spreading limbs of Killian’s oak, the gracefully swaying leaves breaking the moonlight into dappled shadows the two youths began to engage in a dance as old as time. Sadly for them, it was not to be. A series of harsh caws from the crow Killian had always considered a friend interuppted them and caused the windows in his foster parent’s house to burst into light

With a startled cry Bridget grabbed up her discarded clothes and dashed away as Killian’s parents appeared on the front porch, wrapped in their bathrobes and yelling after the girl. Killian’s foster father stomped out towards the tree, fury in his eyes and a leather belt dangling from his fist.

“You’ve gone too far this time boy. You’ve brought this on yourself.”

Raising the belt, his mouth narrowed in anger Killian’s foster father began to whip it down towards the boy’s naked shoulders. Killian braced himself for the searing pain of the belt, our of his peripheral vision he saw that his father was holding the tail end of the belt and that the buckle was describing a gleaming arc toawrds his unprotected skin. A great crack echoed through the nearly still night, statling a scream out of the Killian’s foster mother and the children now crowding around her on the porch. Killian felt no pain, and raising his eyes he saw that a branch, easily six feet long and as thick around as forearm had fallen from the tree, tangling the belt and dragging it to the ground. Rage bubbled up in the older man’s face, visible by the rising tide of red creeping from neck to hairline. A few futile tugs showed him that the belt was well and truly snagged so, full of righteous fury, Killian’s stepfather clenched his fists and for the first time moved to strike the young man in anger.

“That’ll be enough of that,” a soft voice spoke from the edge of the yard. A patch of darkness seemed to pull itself free as the most striking woman Killian had ever seen raised a dark hood off of her head, her alabaster skin a striking contrast to her hair. Hair so black it made the night seem a pale reflection of it’s darkness. Hair that Killian recognized from his oldest memories and from looking in the mirror every day.

“Come along now son, you’ve clearly outgrown this place,” the dark woman spoke barely above a whisper and yet Killian heard it as clearly as if she were standing next to him.

A glance at his foster family showed Killian that he had no place here anymore, the rage and fear simmering in his breast enough that he didn’t trust what might happen if his foster father made good on the threat still alive in his eyes.

“Yeah, fine. It’s not like there is anything left for me here,” Killian mumbled startling a choked sob out of his foster mother, her eyes already overflowing her eyes.

“Quickly then, pack a bag, we’ve got a long way to go.”

Though the woman spoke softly Killian felt himself compelled to do as he was told. Climbing the porch in a few quick strides he brushed past him former family, the smallest children and his mother reaching out as if to stop him. In a daze or anger, fear and sexual frustration Killian quickly stuffed a gym bag full of clothes, an extra pair of sneakers and looking around his small room, realized there was nothing else here worth taking with him away from this life.

As practically flew down the steps Killian was forced to stop short by his foster mother standing at the foot of the stairs.

“You don’t have to leave, you’re father didn’t mean it. He was just worried about your soul. Think about what could have happened we hadn’t caught you,” she said quietly.

“You’re wrong, I need to leave, and I have to do it now. I can’t stay here any longer, not with him.”

Tears in her eyes his foster mother reaching out to embrace Killian, while he stood stiff in her arms. She took his hand and pressed a small wad of cash into his hand.

“If you need to go, I’ll understand but please, don’t think too badly of us.”

Slipping the wad of cash into his pocket Killian nodded slightly to the only mother he had ever known. Stepping past her, and through the silently crying crowd of children Killian saw the raven haired woman waiting for him by the red oak.

“Let’s go then,” Killian said, hitching his bag up on his shoulder.

“You might need this,” the woman said, handing over the length of wood that had saved Killian from the belt, lifting the large branch as if it weighed nothing.

“Uh, sure,” Killian said, reaching out to take the branch, it’s weight oddly comforting in his hand. Unsure of what to do with the staff Killian slipped it into the loops on the side of his bag he figured it would do for that as well as for a hockey stick. With a shrug, Killian gestured for the woman to lead on.

“Don’t forget to thank your friend, courtesy is important for us than for others.”

The confused look of Killian’s face seemed to amuse the woman, who gestured back towards the tree where Killian had spent the majority of his young life. Feeling foolish Killian took a few hesitant steps towards the tree and lay one hand on it’s trunk.

“Uhh, thanks, I guess. I’ll miss you, but stay strong. One day I’ll be back.”

Killian felt a strange awareness from the tree, it seemed to echo his feelings. The sense of gratitude and friendship he felt from the tree echoed in his own heart and soul.

“Time to go now child. We’ve got miles to go, and you’ve got much to learn.”

With one final pat to the trunk of the tree Killian turned away from the life he’d known and entered into another world he could never have imagined.

A few years have passed since Killian left his foster family, in that time he has wandered both with his mother, The Morrigan and alone. In that time he has both perfected his ability to take care of himself, and managed to cultivate a small network of like miinded young people. While most of them come from reasonably proserous backgrounds they have all but given up on Society and instead live on the fringes, governed by their own rules, most of which Killian has taken from his mother’s teachings.

To look at him you’d never know that Killian has slept under a roof no more than one night in ten for the past four years. He remains clean, well groomed and fit. He still carries the same bag from the night he left his life behind, and while he still carries the staff given to him by his red oak it has long since been carved with intricate twisting runes and pictograms. The Morrigan taught Killian the history of the Tuatha while carving the stories into the staff in ever more intricate spirals. The staff is now a work of art that could grace any museum, but more importantly, at least for Killian, it allows him access to a portion of the magic his mother taught him. Before she left for a great battle where her half human son would have been a liability The Morrigan presented Killian with a black leather jacket, the image of a raven in flight worked onto the back with The Morrigan’s own hair used for thread, the jacket provides Killian a level of supernatural protection, while also allowing him to communicate with beasts sacred to his mother.

Killian Corvis

Eldest of the Gods CWSmythe