Atticus O'Sullivan

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Full Name:
Atticus O'Sullivan
AKA:
Siodhachan O Suileabhain
Position:
Iron Druid
Age:
Young Adult
Species:
Type:
World:
Music:
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It's all Irish politics
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— Himself

Atticus O'Sullivan is a 2100 year old Irish Druid who has lived through history's most defining moments, leaving him cynical, world-weary, and usually alone. Recently settled in Port-au-Feu due to the large convergence of supernatural energy found there, he has opened "Third Eye Books and Herbs," a magical studies store, with his Irish Wolfhound, Oberon.

Personality

When you've lived over 2,000 years as I have, you can't help but grow cynical and stoic and maybe even a little weary of the world. When people you know life their lives and die, it's easier to just remain alone because that pain never truly fades. That's why I make sure Oberon gets my "Immortali-tea." I want him to stick around for a long time. It's also hard to get close to people because of the supernatural storms that seem to blow my way, even when I'm not looking for them. Humans are fragile and one stray swing of a God's sword or getting caught in the blast of a Goddess's wrathful magic means they're dead, and there's no binding spell to fix that. Most of the people who stick around in my life are able to take care of themselves and I don't need too keep trying to protect them. If you are trying to get to know me, a good Irish Whiskey's the quickest way to do it, but be prepared: I can get talkative and might even slip into some Irish, so you best be paying attention or have a translator handy. It's those times that you'll see that despite my age, I'm pretty current on your pop culture references as well.

Background

So you want to know about this mysterious "Atticus" and how I came to be here in Port-au-Feu? Well, since I was born over 2,100 years ago, I think it's safe to summarize the first couple thousand years in broad strokes. When I took my Druid vows, the Earth chose me and my tattoos appeared at that time. I was a member of the Druid Order, like any other. There was the rise and fall of the Roman Empire...there was the invasion of the Huns...the Christian persecutions...and more recently two World Wars that left many countries ravaged for years. I lived through it all, fought in some of it with magic and skill at arms. You may be wondering why bother with weapons, but I can assure you that having a sword at the ready when your magic fails is the key to survival. One benefit of living as long as I have is you are afforded the chance to train with masters around the world. Throughout that time, many of my brothers and sisters vanished, were killed, or died off. Though I'm sure there are other Druids still out there, I've lost touch with them and have effectively been alone for hundreds of years. It was somewhere in those hundreds of years that the Morrígan and I came to an agreement. Because I willingly helped her daughter out of a difficult situation, the goddess granted me a boon: as long as I did not cross her, she would not come for my soul. That should suffice for your history lesson, so I'll spare you the rest of the details that you're undoubtedly aware of.

The things you probably don't know are that I lived in Arizona for a while and tried my best to stay out of the limelight for a while. I did my best to stay out of the affairs of gods and powerful entities, but things always seem to happen anyways. As things always do, it started with a misunderstanding, except from what I know of it, it was Nuada Silverhand of the Tuatha De Danann who misunderstood. Apparently, a young fae I helped escape her bonded marriage was important to The High King and he sought to balance the scales. I, however, was not in the mood to be balanced and so during the ensuing "discussion," I escaped not only his ire but also with his sword, Fragarach, as my own form of payback. As with all things in my world, it's all Irish politics, and soon I had several Celtic deities and their allies looking for me. One wanted me dead, the other wanted me in his bed. You can imagine how that week went.

As if that weren't enough for anyone's month, there was a matter of a dispute over a piece of land in Arizona between a pack of werewolves and a newly arrived vampire family. Since it was my home, I got myself involved. Of course, the powers before each group saw that as a problem and more powerful entities were sent to kill me. What is the last druid from my Druid Circle left to do? Well I did what anyone would, I petitioned help from a Trickster God to help me fake my death. The ruse was flawless, and I know sooner or later he's going to call in that favor. Until then, I'm here in Port-au-Feu, about as far from Arizona as I could go. The ley lines are good here, I have my wolfhound Oberon with me, and I'm looking to open a magic shop. Hopefully things will be quiet for a while...

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