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| Nickname |


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| In Depth Appearance |
While not as intimidating as some of his brothers, what with him only being 5’9” and not being built like a truck that ate a truck, if you make him mad enough, he can look every bit as fearsome as the rest of them. He has curly red locks, which he has to brush out of his brown eyes more than he cares to admit, that he can’t quite bring himself to trim, so it often ends up looking unruly. The small beard that grows along his jawline is more a product of laziness than genuine fashion sense, but at this point he has grown too attached to it to just shave it off. And even if he isn’t bulging with muscles, he’s still in pretty good shape, as he spends as much of his time outdoors as is physically possible. Generally, his expression is a rather laidback and it takes a good deal to uproot the easygoing grin that is often plastered on his mug.

If he’s not at work, Rory will often be found in a pair of ratty jeans, a button up with the sleeves rolled up, and the most non-descript black tennis shoes you can imagine. And while it’s not unheard of to see him dressed up in a more formal sense, it is a rather rare occurrence that often only happens at the relentless insistence of another party. You won’t find any jewelry, tattoos, or piercings on this werewolf, as he oftentimes finds the stuff too gaudy for his tastes.

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| Personality Traits |


| Personality |
First impressions can be rough for Rory. His impulsive nature and complete lack of disregard for all things polite and careful has proven to really rub people the wrong way, especially those of the blood drinking variety. But if one manages to get past that, they will see that he is every bit as laidback and approachable as he appears. Quick to smile and always ready with a laugh, the werewolf is generally positive force in the world that tries to bring adventure and excitement into the lives of the people around him. Now whether or not those people appreciate his antics is another matter entirely, but that’s not something he concerns himself with all that often.

The time he spent wandering across Europe has played a tremendous role in who he is as a person. For one thing, Rory has much more street smarts than book smarts, as he never really finished any kind of formal education. Though that doesn’t mean he has nothing but rocks in his head, as he can be surprisingly intuitive at times and has the capacity to be a remarkably fast learner. The redhead has also picked up a number of languages, and while he is by no means fluent in any of them besides English, he can definitely hold his own in a conversation. But perhaps more than anything else, he has gained an open mind and does his best to keep from jumping to conclusions.

Rory warms up to people quickly, but rarely lets anyone get too close, as he is still far too used to always being on the move, which made getting close to people a liability. But in most cases, he will try and give a person the benefit of the doubt, as he has been in the wrong place at the wrong time enough to know how far a little bit of faith can go. But if you lie to him, he is unlikely to forgive all that easily, as one of the few things he had to his name was his word. Consequently, he often measures the worth of others by whether or not they can stand by what they say.

| Place of Origin |


| History |
There’s not much Rory remembers from his days as a tot. Sure, he remembers the names of family members, but it’s difficult for him to remember their faces, much less concrete details about them. The same goes for Galway, the town he grew up in, as he is able to list various details about the place, but memories of the time he spent there are fleeting. What he does remember was that he had always been bored of the quiet life that he had been living. That is, until the dark night that the 16 year old was attacked and bitten by a guy he had never seen before. He didn’t know it at the time, but that random act of violence would change the course of his life.

The sound of strange voices woke him and he was greeted by the glares of people he didn’t recognize and the feeling of his wrists bound by rope to a chair. Turned out, the lunatic that attacked him was a werewolf, who in turn was a part of the group of werewolves before him, which had snapped under the rules that his pack had put in place to escape the attention of hunters. And in a place like Ireland, where there is only so far you can run in any given direction, those rules were understandably strict and brutally enforced. It was difficult for Rory to take in the existence of the supernatural, much less the fact that he had been unwilling made a part of that world, but he was given little time to process any of it, as they made it clear that they couldn’t trust him with their secret, so they told him he would have to disappear, one way or another.

And so he did, taking the first boat he could to Spain without a word of goodbye to his family. The first few years of his exile were terrible, as he was still a minor with barely a clue in the world about how to survive on his own, much less how to handle his newfound Lycanthropy. The redhead had more brushes with death than he cared to count, only surviving by the charity of others and more dumb luck than one could possibly imagine. But eventually, Rory started to adapt and learn how to survive as a vagabond. He worked odd jobs nearly as much as he stole to survive, but he never stayed in one place for longer than a month. Skirting along the border of Spain and France led him to pick up both languages quite well, getting better at them the further he traveled. Along the way, he had run ins with vampires that nearly always rubbed him the wrong way and even other packs of werewolves, although he never had an urge to try and join any of them. The nomadic lifestyle had really grown on him and he wasn’t quite ready to give it up quite yet.

Rory would end up seeing much of Spain and France, a good deal of Italy, and a bit of Germany before the toll of always being on the move finally caught up to him. Unlucky events kept piling on him one after another, culminating in being chased out of Germany and into France by a group of relentless hunters. Somehow he managed to lose them just outside of Reims. Battered and exhausted, the werewolf just barely made it into the city before collapsing. Although it wasn’t all that strange for the 23 year old to find a stranger tending his wounds, it was the first time a vampire was the one to greet him when he awoke. Although suspicious of the throat sucker’s intentions at first, Rory warmed up to the insufferably old codger. And apparently, the vampire saw something in him, as he told him about Bellingstone.

The idea of settling down unnerved him, but even Rory knew that he would end up in an early grave at the rate he had been going. As a parting gift, the vampire with too much money on his hands put the werewolf on a plane to Pennsylvania. His reception at Bellingstone was a bit rocky, but for some reason the pack decided to take the vagabond in after hearing his story. For his first few months in the town, the guy was more or less passed from family to family until he was able to get a job and support himself, ensuring that whether they loved him or hated him, just about all of the werewolves knew him from firsthand experience. When asked if he likes living in Bellingstone, the most common thing you will hear him say is, “Suppose you can say the place is starting to grow on me like mold.”

| Extra |