Name:
Ronan Smith
Appearance:
Age:
26
Birth Country:
Born on a boat, raised on a boat, then delivered unto the Slums
Family members:
Mother- Irene
Father- Richard
Little Sister- Tasha
Role/Occupation:
Hireable criminal brute. Used to be a dock worker.
Starting Fortune:
Always has at least 50 dollars on him. (In his front left pocket)
Pocket knife (Kept in belt)
Hunting knife (Kept in belt)
5 Throwing knives (Kept in belt)
Metal bat (Tied onto back)
Strengths:
Melee combat (Knives, Fists, etc.)
Durable (Can take a beating)
Sneaky (When he wants to be)
Intimidating (When he wants to be)
Weaknesses:
Dealing with emotions (Easily angered, thinks he can never show anything other than anger or impassiveness.
Not a very good judge of character
Doesn't care about anything (Except the people that are very, very close to him)
Ranged combat (Bows, guns, etc.)
Being diplomatic (He punches people. He doesn't have a way with words.)
Greatest Fear:
Internal Fear - Weakness. (Showing it, feeling it. It doesn't matter. If he's seen as weak in any way and he can recognize it, it'll be
all he thinks about.)
External Fear - Claustrophobic (Can't handle small spaces. He would rather die than go in a crawl space. Elevators are pretty bad too.)
Background/History:
Childhood: At a younger age he used to be a sweet little boy who wouldn't hurt a fly. He was never really scared of much and he felt the sight of blood was oddly welcoming. Ronan always wanted to protect his friends, not so much his family. He hated his father for not being there for him, and his mother for ignoring him completely. The only family he really cared for was his sister, the only person that has ever always been there for him. At school, people picked on him, called him names, pulled nasty pranks on him. Ronan was seen as weak and pathetic. One day it was too much and he finally snapped, he couldn't deal with it any longer. After hospitalizing a bully on the way home, the beast inside had been awakened and he began to crave violence like a drug. Now Ronan is unapologetic. He misses the sight of blood like an old friend. Ronan is easily provoked since he doesn't care about his actions getting him in trouble. He would sooner break a kid's nose than apologize to him, and he rarely backs down from a fight or opportunity to feel someone's bones crunching under his blows. Ronan also has a slight fascination with guns, although he would never use one. He loves seeing fruits explode on impact, but can't help but wonder if heads do the same thing as watermelon.
Where, Why, and What:
Ronan was born as a Gypsy. Not your typical Gypsy though. Oh no, he was a Gypsy of the sea. Instead of riding a wagon from town to town, he would ride ships and help with the sailors while his mother robbed them with her "magic." When he was no older than 10, his parents would constantly be traveling. That was, of course, before his sister came around. When his mother was pregnant with Tasha, the family finally settled down in their current home, the last port before delivery. Although, always being in close quarters with his parents didn't mean they really gave him much attention. His mother was always focused on the next client, and his father was never really there to begin with. Ronan's father was always off ship, but sometimes found his way to the port they were loading onto. They saw him at most three times a year, sometimes less than that. After Tasha was born, Ronan never saw him again. His mother loves The City of No Name, even though her lack of a well-paying profession has left them in the slums. Then, his mother got sick. He was only 17 when his mother fell ill. She was so sick she could barely move and he, being the oldest, had to take over. Ronan was never really into the Gypsy stuff, nor was he good at it. He would rather take the things he wanted by force rather than by finesse. So, that's what he became. Ronan had always been a big kid. That, combined with his violent nature, he did fairly well in the streets. He started out as a mugger, providing just enough for his mother and sister. But, it soon became addicting. Seeing the blood splatter against the stone, and hearing the crunch of bones, it was his drug. Ronan couldn't stop, nor did he want to. He quickly became what he his today, a brute for hire. Handing out hits didn't also pay better, it was more fun. He had found his purpose. Something that not only entertained, but provided for what little family he had left.
