Oh, where does one begin?[edit]
In truth my tale begins with me Ma and Da. They married on the MacCailin family farm, amongst friends and relatives in 2015, after surviving the horror of VITAS. At the time UGE was causing uproar and even the Catholic Church has gone so far as to declare these children to be abominations. Yet, like the rest of Ireland they ignored such declarations. They made their life's goal to raise a big family regardless of whether they were human, dwarf, elf, or whatever strangeness that would be born.
As our family grew, the land around us changed. I was born in 2025, last of the Elven Wave, yet our family had a very healthy mix of elves, dwarfs, humans – in time we would also see orcs and trolls born to the family, too. However, Ireland began to see darkness in it. Elven supremacy was becoming the standard, meaning plenty of opportunities for me and my elven siblings but closed doors for those that were not. My folks always made sure that despite our physical differences we were a family and there was no one better or worse. Those lessons would stick with me for the rest of my life.
The turning point for us though became far more personal. When I was fifteen, members of the one of the so called Danaan families filed a suit against our family, Debating the ownership of the family farm. For those in the know (particularly those who work the shadows) the Danaan controls most of the Tír's politics. We did well in those days but any representation we could muster versus the Danaan families would be moot. All it took was “finding” some old document's stating the farm's had been sold way back during the potato famine of the 1900s but had not been observed. In the end they offered us a settlement in exchange for the farm, not inconsiderable but hardly what it was worth. My father and mother packed us up and with the help of an old family friend, Michael O’Hanlon, we moved to the UCAS.
Times were hard and Ma and Da had to make some tough choices. Both had time served in the military before they got married and both were powerful Awakened. In such, they chose to run the shadows to keep us afloat and pay for a better tomorrow. My siblings and I were left to our own, with the elder siblings tending to the younger ones. Boston is also tough town and was hard on a pointed eared kid from the Tír. Our family was not the only ones displaced by the upheaval and many blamed the elves. This got me into a lot of fights growing up, and I eventually got good at winning them. As word got around about the elf kid with fists made of steel, the fights were much fewer and far between. Through these fights I discovered I was also Awakened, and Adept just beginning his Warriors Way.
When I graduated from high school my parents had stowed enough money to quit running and live a more peaceful life. They took their earnings and bought an old building and converted it into a hydroponics facility. My Ma got the idea from a weird facility they crashed during a run. My Da was skeptical at first, but his heart belonged to the old farm more than any of us. A return to that lifestyle, albeit modernized, was not a hard sell. After all, since most folks in the UCAS eat processed foods and tofu, there is very good money in real grown food. As such South Boston Hydroponics and Poultry was born.
After high school, I helped at the facility with my family, though I found myself growing listless. I began to realize how much I missed our old home, with the near endless fields and sheep. I missed fishing in the old pond at the edge of the farm with my siblings. I missed napping in late summer afternoons and dreaming strange dreams of forest fairies calling to me.
One warm spring day I was at Faneuil Hall walking amongst the buskers and street performers. Da had been after me that day, telling me I needed to find myself a purpose in life. He didn’t care if I went to university or not, just to find something and do it. I responded with the usual sarcasm of a nineteen-year-old and took off for the day. I hadn't realized it when I left, but I really wanted to find that “something.” Without thinking about it, before the throng of tourists, locals, and weirdos, I kicked over a soapbox and began to rant. I called to the times of my childhood, I spoke of what I lost, how I longed for it, but could never get back. I talked about racism and corruption and what it had done to my family. What surprised me more than anything was that people listened. At first, they were few, but the numbers grew. Soon I found myself speaking in all sorts of places with more and more people willing to listen.
My speeches lead me to like-minded people and with them I formed a group, The Sons of Ireland. As I said before, a lot of people were displaced by the oligarchy of the Danaan. At first, we were simple activists. We would protest the Tír embassy, march in the Saint Patrick's Day parade, host online Matrix events, and anything to get our message out. We were mostly peaceable then, well what passes for peaceable in Southie anyway. That would change when somebody tipped us off to Tír na nÓg dealings in the heart of Boston.
With the reemergence of magic in the Sixth Age, more than a few old heirlooms were found to have a spark of the mystical. Many of these artifacts were brought to the new world from the old during the great immigration of the 1920s. There were many mystics in Tír Na nÓg interested in reclaiming said artifacts and would do anything to get them. I and a few of the boys and girls in the S-of-I got a lead from an anonymous source – there were robberies of peoples' homes, break-ins at museums, and even graves were being robbed. Me and a few volunteers with the appropriate skills did some sleuthing and tracked down the source. We found some Tír agents had been hiring low watt shadow runners to do their dirty work. We posed as a team looking for work and put the screws to them as soon as we could. I still remember that day, first time I killed a man with my bare hands… You don't forget something like that.
Soon after our escapade found us a bit of notoriety. Some of the magic savvy groups in the Boston area took notice and offered to put in good word for our outfit if we were interested in some real work. I guess the local mage groups didn’t take kindly to Tír mystics digging up trinkets on their turf. We decided to try it out for a bit and put a good portion of the money we made back into the Sons of Ireland. Soon we were able to get some property for a club house and worked on increasing membership. We often found ourselves at odds with the local Humanis Policlub, for obvious reasons. Our numerous dust ups with them only gave us more notice. The Sons of Ireland soon had memberships extended out to New York and Chicago. However, success would come at a price.
It all came to an end a few years back when I was betrayed by someone who I thought was a friend. A dwaven kid named Finigan, I had gone to middle and high school. Hell, he had joined the Sons of Ireland on my own recommendation. It was a day like any other, I was in the office giving a pep talk on official (as in legitimate) business when he comes up behind me and tries to put a Fineblade in my back. I instinctively turned around and beat him within an inch of his life in front of everybody. It wasn’t until he was on the ground when I realized it was Fin.
However, the attack was never mean to be successful. A hidden camera had been set up before the attack, and that footage was streamed and edited to look like the attack was unprovoked. You can even still find that video on the matrix today and all you will see is an elf beating up a dwarf. Despite the whole staff defending me the result was demoralizing. It raised a lot of concerns for all parts of the organization. Some accused me of being a Tír plant. The rumor mill was abounded, and we needed to do something. It was as though everybody forgot the message; it was not about us versus the elves or even the Tír, but the corruption and fascism that plagues it. Finally, I was asked to sit down with the other founders and they felt it was best that I step away. I know none of them wanted it, but it seemed that it would be the best choice for the organization. So that was it, everything I had fought and bled for taken away in an instant all over again.
For a time, I went back to work at the hydroponics plant when my Da took me aside. He knew more than anyone else what it's like to have your dreams stolen from you. He suggested maybe I take some time and focus on my Way now that I have no other responsibilities. He suggested I head out west, said that Seattle would be a good place to start fresh. He had a few friends in the shadows that way who could point me in the right direction. With no better ideas, I packed my bags, sold anything I couldn't take with me, and headed out for Seattle.