Updated: Mar 24
Player Info Player Name: Rel Player E-Mail: LuckyIrishster@gmail.com
Name: Atticus Finn Henry
Actual Age: 36
Age of appearance: 30s
Date of birth: July 17th
Place of Birth: Coloma, California
Marital Status: Single
Sexual Orientation: Heterosexual
Chronic Diseases: Lycanthropy
Eye Color: Chestnut Brown
Hair Color/Style: Light brown, short on the sides, shaggy and long on the top, but is usually hidden beneath his hat
Other: Long healed raised bite scar across his right shoulder blade, long healed raised claw swipe scar over left kidneys
Play-By Used: Tom Hardy
Finn is… Hard. He’s a bit standoffish, and tends to look as though he has Resting Asshole Face.
If he’s looking at you, and you think he might be judging you? Don’t wonder about it… because he is. Somewhere in that rough and tumble exterior is… something. It might be a heart, we’ve yet to find it, but there is one thing that is absolute about Finn, and that’s his loyalty. If you’re lucky enough to get it, it will never waver. He’s ride or die till the end.
Surprisingly enough, he can also be a bit of a charmer, as he has a competitive streak. No doubt, it’s one reason why he gets along so well with his best-if most annoying-buddy, Jake.
Species: Bitten Werewolf
Affiliation: Denver Pack
Strengths: Loyalty, endurance, survival skills, decent with a rifle, but incredible grappling skills
Weaknesses: Can be difficult, off putting, loathes vampires, stubborn, reactive
Finn has always been a wolf. Yes, he is a bitten wolf, and not a born, but he has always been a wolf. From the moment he came howling into the world, “Attie” as his parents called him, was a brawler. He was born to the nomad lifestyle, one in which he and his parents essentially lived out of a wagon that was hauled around by a pair of thin Oxen. You see his father was obsessed with gold. In fact, it was that reason that he was born in Coloma, California. His father had been sure that there was gold in those hills, (little did he know, he was about 10 years too early), and he’d been determined to find it, but as was common in that time, he was also obsessed with the drink. Franklin Henry didn’t have blood in his veins, he had whiskey. He drank like a fish, and was never far from the bottle, so fights were common. The little family had been chased out more often than not once Franklin had overstayed his welcome.
In 1840, when Finn was just four years old, his entire world changed. The family had been staying in a small mining town that was more hovel than anything else. His father was once again convinced that the claim he’d staked was going to change their lives. Unfortunately, he was right. The last vestiges of winter had been holding onto the small mountain, refusing to release it’s control to the spring rains that would melt the snows. The nearest town was Denver, but that was on the other side of the mountain range. Even still, it was a popular stop on the way to California.
Sometime during the night, a new group made it to the small town, and they were looking for a warm meal. The only problem was that the town, unbeknownst to most, was claimed. The wolf pack that controlled the territory, butted up against that of the Denver Pack, which was more passive with their dealings with the vampires. Their territories overlapped, and boundaries were respected. That was not the case in this small town. The wolf pack smelled the vampires trespassing on their land and launched a full out attack.
It was bloody and utterly ruthless. The human population had been decimated, considered to be friendly fire and altogether expendable in the desire to see the enemy destroyed.
Finn’s family was caught up in that battle. His mother and father fell quickly, but the little boy hid in his parent’s wagon, biting small red moons into his hands to keep from crying out, but ultimately, his little heart racing away gave him away.
The vampire that found him was old, his last shred of humanity gone for longer than most had been alive. He had no use for children, and ultimately chose to dispose of him. The vampire threw Finn to his pets, silver chained werewolves that had gone mad and feral after being stuck for years in their wolven forms….
That had been the last thing he remembered before waking up, cradled in an older man’s arms. They were on horseback, and he felt cold. He could hear others around them, but couldn’t seem to move his head to see them.
“Easy there now… I’ve got you,” the warm voice consoled, and lulled by the rocking of the horse and overwhelmed by the fire that seemed to be clawing its way into his back, Finn passed out.
His dark wolf when it emerged had proved to be just as stubborn and gritty as the boy it belonged to. Finn had been taken in by the Rex of the Denver Pack, and grew up with Jacob King and the other Born Wolves. Though Bitten, he’d managed to rise in the ranks, and obtain Omega just below Jake and the Rex himself.
Other: After living most of his life as a wolf, the fact that he is actually a bitten were rather than
born is a bit of a sore spot to him, and should not be pointed out… unless someone wants a fight.
Ranchhand on the Rex’s ranch. It’s the way Max creates money for his pack, raising and selling cattle. Finn oversees it.
Address: Homestead outside of Denver
Lived there since: last 20 years
Buckskin Gelding named Spooks