Shamus O'Tool

Character Information

Gender		Male
Species		Human

Physical Appearance

Height		6'5"
Weight		123kg
Hair Color		Red as fresh hart's blood.
Eye Color		Greener than emeralds
Physical Description		The avatar of the aldar'Rishal. No, we are not joking here. If ever there was a figure of mortal means who embodied the more contrary, devil-may-care, wandering ways of the Rish it is Shamus O'Tool. He is tall, for a man who wanders should see far. He is fiery of hair, as a man who wanders must sometimes blaze the trail for others. He is a man sometimes brave, sometimes foolish, for how else do the paths seldom travelled ever get explored? He is a man used to the roughness of life and revels in the simple pleasures such patterns present. If he had been born 1500 years earlier, he would have been the prized Pict gladiator in the fighting pits of an occupied Britain. Alas he was born in a time where such things were frowned upon, as paradise had no place for rough men.

Family

Spouse		Many and often
Children		Probably. Somewhere. (Look for the hair)
Father		He had one.
Mother		Presumably had this as well.
Brother(s)		All men who wander further than is wise.
Sister(s)		All women who are bonny, bright, and possessed of a will to see harm to others 'fore harm is brought to them.
Other Family		The Rish enclave of Tuatha de Danann on Annwin.

Personality & Traits

General Overview		Shamus O'Tool is, as his name suggests, a tool. And he knows it. There is no chance, great or small, that Shamus is of the delusion that he is a man of words with a head for figures. He is a brute, an uncommon man within the borders of the Federation, but quite common out on the ragged edge of civilisation. But is a man used to a rough life, and the sort of millage that puts on people. He is not presumptuous unless he feels the call to manful action that is to fight. He is honest to a fault, prizing this feature above all when asked. He is a charmer. He is a thug. He is a Tool.
Strengths & Weaknesses		His body doesn't seem to know when to lie down and pretend to die quietly. He has taken beatings, and given many more, past any point of physical exhaustion that would see a lesser specimen keel over. This is in part to do with his pride. The other is because on that cusp of defeat, riding the line between one moment and the great oblivion beyond, he is alive. He is pure mortal force given form and voice, to scream a sermon to the masses about just how life should be led! His mouth doesn't know when to shut up. He pushes. He prods. He cajoles. He speaks crassly. He has the unique talent of finding just the wrong thing to say to settle an argument. If his bones weren't a collection of break scars, and his organs as creased with surgeons glue that he looks like a patchwork toy under his skin, you might think he has a death wish.
Ambitions		To drink, whore, fight and be as merry as he can for as long as he can.
Hobbies & Interests		He collects little glass figurines. Doesn't matter where they came from, or which civilisation made them. If they look like a person and they're made of fused silica, he places them on a little shelf. His collection is quite extensive, and whilst you might think him a knowledgeable collector of such things...you would be wrong. They just look pretty.

Personal History		Shamus, no last name, was first entered onto the census rolls of the United Federation of Planets as an orphan. Hailing from the planetoid Vesta, this was hardly surprising. Poor environmental standards, little to no actual government oversight, the little rock orbiting Sol was the fiefdom of the Martian Bratva. There a young Shamus would learn hard lessons in life. He would become a student to fighting, to toil, to deprivation and hardship. All of this, mind you, a mere astronomical hairsbreadth from the overflowing tables of a post-scarcity Earth. But that is the prologue to the story of Shams, no last name. Let us remedy this by advancing to his fifteen birthday, where Shamus earned his name. At this point, Shamus's fighting form was on show for all to see. If this was not the case then he'd have been dead. But now he was coming into his full growth, and whilst still a boy in the eyes of the Federation, he was more than enough of a man for the fighting pits. There he was trained and taught the many ways in which pain could be a valuable tool in the hands of a master. He was taught to respect pain as a messenger of damages to one's self. As an instructor to others of the price of will conceived action. Now it would have been a different life if these were the two lessons he took aboard: a career as a thug for one of the bosses of the Martian Bratva awaited. Instead, he heard a third. It sang in his blood, the roar of a crowd baying for his blood or that of another. It was sound of a siren calling him to his personal war, arousing his desire's and giving him the life-affirming rush that courting death could only achieve. His fighting name was Shamus The Tool. Hebe Dome on Mars, its warren of under-city grottos that even the Federation Sec Forces refused to patrol, became his new home after that. There he fought in matches against worn out fighters, and up and comers. All of the fights were to the death because if you didn't win you'd be sure to fall down a mine shaft if you got out of the ring. Shamus The Tool was very good at winning, but not very good at keeping his mouth shut. He got into more fights outside the ring than in and soon became a problem. But problems could be useful, sometimes they even cancelled out other problems. Shamus The Tool VS The Martian Man Killer. Shamus had heard about the rock-fed Russian from the dome of New Kiev. Inked up and muscled, but soft-spoken and (supposedly) kind. The match was to the death, the betting was going to bankrupt a moon and pay off a planet to whomever lost or won. The Bratva took a piece of the action, and the planetary governor looked the other way from ringside seats. Arkady 'Man Killer' Sjet killed Shamus The Tool within ten minutes of getting into the ring. What shocked Shamus about the whole thing was the coming back part. Apparently, the walking wrecking ball that had fractured his skull, given him crush injuries in his chest, and punctured his left lung twice with his own ribs, was something of a doctor. Enough to bring the recently mostly dead back to mostly alive. Ish. Arkady further improved Shamus's life by getting him off Mars in the care of a small collective of aldar'Rishal. The nomadic spacefarers would wander far and wide, taking Shamus along with them as he slowly recovered in their care. In this time Shamus became O'Tool, instead of The Tool. It would be nice to think he learned something about family and the power of friendship. In truth having a big angry dog with you when you are out in the middle of nowhere was a useful thing to have, so the Rish put up with his more wild behaviours. But a man of the rough path in life must always find that rough path. And in time the Rish expanded out beyond the Alpha and Beta Quadrant and settled a hellish volcanic rock called Annwin. Whilst the technical expertise needed to do such a thing was surely staggering, Shamus was not one of the tinkering Rish. He was a thug. And it just so happened, one moon up from Annwin in the orbit of the red dwarf Limbo, someone had made a pirate paradise. It really was a good afterlife for a Martian gladiator.
Service Record		Independent Commonality Of Vesta, Asteroid Belt, Sol System. Working Visa, Hebe City Sanitation Department, Alge Specialist. Death recorded at 03.43AM Standard Earth Time. Cause Of Death: Vehicular Altercation. Exit Portal Documentation Error: Shamus Tool, Hebe City Space Port. (See previous notation.) Wanted: Telus Colony, drunken antisocial behaviour. Wanted: Virgo VI Colony, drunken aggravated assault. Wanted: Herash Protectorate, trespassing within the Protectors Harem. Wanted: In connection to the theft of 6 Trill Metaphasic Cuttlefish from Starbase 751. Wanted: For industrial sabotage to property belonging to Ingram Nanoscale Solutions. Wanted: Earth, jaywalking.