"Touchรฉ."
โโโโโโโโโโFinnegan "Finny" Oaks
โณ๐ฃ๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ต๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโLord
โณ๐๐ฐ๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโ27
โณ๐๐ฎ๐ท๐ญ๐ฎ๐ป
โโโโโโโโโโMale
โณ๐๐น๐น๐ฎ๐ช๐ป๐ช๐ท๐ฌ๐ฎ
โโโโโโโโโโHandsomely arrogant and all the more devious, there is not a chip on his firm, square shoulders but two devils, both sitting proper with romantic quips and silver tongues, ready to make up for any etiquette instances that might render him less than a gentleman. Although he might sport the mind of a mad man, Finnegan is a blonde hair and blue eyed cherub, sculpted with a square jaw, chiseled cheeks, and a well groomed facial in the likeness of a polite mustache. He has sandy blonde hair, and striking blue eyes with long, thick lashes. Finnegan is quite the pretty man, and his attire is nothing less than dapper, even if he does at times enjoy his fashion with a more relaxed wardrobe from time-to-time when dwelling within the comfort of his own abode.
Finnegan is taller than the average man, but he wishes he could be a fair bit taller. It is said that women love a tall man. However, despite his improbable wish, the man has not any real trouble suiting himself with a woman or two for his romantic charades. He is not one for commitment as he finds most women a bore, even the ones that have successfully dressed their petticoats and lined their bloomers in the remarkable studies of Madame Geraldine's Finishing School.
He is a strong as well as dashing in looks. His skin is fair and not just because the man has a hard time keeping a tan. Finnegan spends most of his time in doors and tends to fancy himself with a hat and coat when leaving his domain. He has no reason to assume himself needlessly with the sun, being a vain man in all the wrong ways but one, as Being a gentleman never goes out of fashion.
โณ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฑ๐ธ๐ธ๐ต
โโโโโโโโโโThe Polytechnique Institute of Arts and Sciences
โณ๐๐พ๐ฒ๐ต๐ญ
โโโโโโโโโโThe Scholar Guild
โณ๐๐ฒ๐ฏ๐ฝ
โโโโโโโโโโThe man has an incredibly sharp sense of smell (and therefore, taste). For better or for worse in both parties' cases he can almost smell your thoughts. He likes to attribute his smell to the success in his Parfum Operando and supple abilities to house his lovers. There are other things like murder and mad things he likes to puff under his ascot, but as an evil genius, he knows that humility of the sport is part of the show.
โณ๐๐ฌ๐ฌ๐พ๐น๐ช๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ธ๐ท
โโโโโโโโโโPerfumist, especially if you want your potion dowsed in chloroform or have the ability to make the rotting corpse under the floorboard become your guests' favorite aroma.
โณ๐๐ฎ๐ป๐ผ๐ธ๐ท๐ช๐ต๐ฒ๐ฝ๐
โโโโโโโโโโFrom the outside, Finnegan looks like a good vain, flirty perfumist, ever so handsome and always well dressed. He is rarely ever known to be single, and when he is, it's a madhouse of business coming his way. One would think that perhaps his marital status is only to boost his business. As playful as he is with the women, he is a polite man and will never hesitate to offer himself as a wing. He likes to think of himself as a charitable man who makes everyone look good (which is why some people have to die from time-to-time). A man should be fashionable wherever he is, no matter where he is, or who is in his company. With that said, he will stand up for his beliefs when the time is right, and he will not hesitate to step on some toes -- even if might look more like he is playing footsies with his opposition.
Finnegan is sharp and concerned with details. He does not expect everyone to be such, but the ones who are not are definitely not the company he prefers to keep around him. That is not to say he does not mind losing a few battles. A good spar always sharpens the man, and besides, he knows how to make the losses look like wins, even if he is not one for mistakes. They are inevitable to be made, but in all fairness, he does not see any point in being too cheeky or sarcastic about them. Wearing such humor is too cheap for his liking, and he has expensive taste. He will make sure his date is dressed properly before taking her anywhere. He expects his arm candy to be just as fashionably acceptable as he is. It is a agreed that the man is a fine young gentleman.
However, this is far from the truth. He is a sneaky bastard with an appetite for murder. He thinks of the people around him as some sort of instrument, made to be fixed because they are just so terribly broken. He would like to control them and better them for his own good and liking. He would like to recreate their lives, as if to make them into his own ballet of death. If he could simply control them into killing each other for fun and glory, he would be... so much more at peace with himself. Yet, he has not quite understood how to make such potions and perfumes with such beautiful, subtle, and powerful nodes.
โณ๐ฆ๐ฑ๐ ๐๐ธ๐พ๐ต๐ญ ๐๐ช๐น๐ฝ๐ช๐ฒ๐ท ๐๐ฒ๐ท๐ฐ๐ผ๐ฏ๐ธ๐ป๐ญ ๐ฌ๐ธ๐ท๐ฝ๐ช๐ฌ๐ฝ ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ถ?
โโโโโโโโโโBombs, Poison, and a Keen Sense of Smell and Taste. Chemistry and tedious knowledge of molecules, instruments, subtle information, and mixing ingredients are all very important to skills for the military. Finnegan also has charisma and a lack of conscious for how deadly his man-made, air born disease could become. And, he also has a sense of flair to him -- the hazardous gas being sprayed at the enemy smells a lot like the sweetest flowers of irresistible Mademoiselle's garden back at home. However, if a silent odor is in demand, Finnegan can mask the scents of the poisonous aromas as well as any spies that need an extra layer of cover-up.
โณ๐๐ป๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ฎ๐ป๐ป๐ฎ๐ญ ๐ฆ๐ฎ๐ช๐น๐ธ๐ท
โโโโโโโโโโSilent but Deadly:
โฅPoison (Perfume, Drinks)
โฅKnives
โฅGarrotes (Wires, Ties, Scarves, Rope, Strings)
โณ๐๐ป๐ฎ๐ฏ๐ฎ๐ป๐ป๐ฎ๐ญ ๐๐ฎ๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ธ๐ญ ๐ธ๐ฏ ๐๐ธ๐ท๐ฏ๐ป๐ธ๐ท๐ฝ๐ช๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ธ๐ท
โโโโโโโโโโFinnegan enjoys meeting his at the local Coffee Shops or Pubs. The fine dances and balls are none too extravagant for his escapades, either. The best thing about perfumes are when the nodes will decide their victim's time of death, and Finnegan prefers them to have at least let the guest leave the vicinity of where the crime happened before making a mess. It's so much more polite that way and leaves less finger prints. He is after all, the Life Saving Perfumist.
โณ๐๐ช๐ฟ๐ธ๐ป๐ฒ๐ฝ๐ฎ ๐๐ต๐ช๐ผ๐ผ(๐ฎ๐ผ) ๐ช๐ฝ ๐ข๐ฌ๐ฑ๐ธ๐ธ๐ต
โโโโโโโโโโโฅExplosive Chemistry, Magic, Mathematics, and Myalo
โฅNefarious Narcotics for a Deranged Doctor
โฅDeadly Plants and Deadlier Poisons
โฅMaintaining a Suitably Chaotic Laboratory
โณ๐๐ฒ๐ธ๐ฐ๐ป๐ช๐น๐ฑ๐
โโโโโโโโโโThe first obstacle to having such a fine sense of smell starts at infancy. Finnegan's nursemaid found it incredibly difficult to keep the boy from starving. His stomach seemed to be upset almost perpetually, and any thought of his mother seemed to transpire into a scent that turned a peaceful nap into an hour of loud yearning. If he was not born to such a well-to-do family, Finnegan might as well have been left for dead, being so impossible to feed and console. Thankfully, there are things called perfumes that can set the soul alight.
His mother was quite fond of fancy and frilly things. His parents were, after all, noble and quite fond of the finer things. Therefore, Finnegan enjoys the more deluxe smells. However, he has an appreciation and curiosity for the more toxic and putrid aromas. He likes to think of scents as chords for music, and they say so much about a person, which brings the second hardest thing about having a fine sense of smell. As a child, he realized that he could smell people's emotions or when people were "Off-Key." They could say one thing and sway another way, "Why, your grandfather is so delighted!" but "Oh, why does he smell how he does when he is angry?" For Finnegan, it was is as if he was living a world where everyone is constantly lying about who or what they truly are. Such a confusing situation can lead such a sharp-willed young man to the brinks of insanity, really.
Slowly or perhaps, it was quickly, Finnegan began to realize most humans are extremely out of touch with their own bodies, and it became a game. He could smell the truth; and he could see and hear what the person wanted him to believe; and he knew certain words or actions could nudge a person one way or the other; and he began toying with these letters of the law. He rearranged them to his own liking, creating his own songs. As young as elementary, he began playing with different scents such as lavender or basil. At first, it was too offset the condition, and later, it was to implore a more devious route for something that he realized was too chaotic to control from his standpoint. Still, he was desperate to be the Pied Piper with aromas.
The first successful experiment Finnegan performed with perfume was putting his Nanny to bed early with the use of Lavender and Jasmine after realizing she was exhausted. He was then later able to mind himself with other such things of which she would have never let him do while under her watch. Of course he understood this fairly easily, which lead to being the third hardest part about being born with such a keen sense of smell. He became controlling and power hungry and sought to further explore this genre of intellect. His father was not keen on his son running some dandy's line of play and pamper, however. He was a wealthy man, suited with ties to the bank and the counsel a like. He wanted to raise Finnegan into a much more well-rounded manner -- as a gentleman. Finnegan agreed, Dandies were never allowed to be vulgar, and where he wanted to go, vulgarity was a necessary.
Through word of mouth and some recommendation by colleagues, Monsieur Oak sent his son to The Polytechnique Institute of Arts and Sciences. In all respect, he was proud of his son. This acclaimed academia was quite sought after, and to think his eldest would be a graduate of such a fine prestige was an honor. Finnegan had been a troubled child due to his sensitive tastes, but here, he was being suited and tailored into a vocation of brotherhood, chivalry, and truth. Finnegan graduated with the title of Evil Genius, which he uses only at certain times, more concerned with actions than words to prove his worth. Although, he will not hesitate to try and inflate someone's head to be bigger than their hat -- this idea comes with his profession as a Perfumist: making one seem better than he is.
And a very fine Perfumist he is. Finengan's Parfumeur is acclaimed to re-tune the body's senses, while also exemplifying the beauties of each customer's personality and goal. Parfumeur is quite popular, not just amongst the ladies. A small trend to confess him as some sort of doctor has begun to cherish around his clientele. He is a miracle worker! However, to think such a man of great honor existed in this society would be a great laugh at the brothels. The man is as sinister. The Art of a Perfect Murder, Finnegan believes, is nothing if the corpse cannot be at least hidden under your floor board and made to be an aroma that your guests cannot help but delightfully notice and desire to compliment without any hesitation.
โณ๐๐ฟ๐ฒ๐ต ๐๐ฎ๐ท๐ฒ๐พ๐ผ ๐๐ฎ๐ฟ๐ฎ๐ต ๐ช๐ฝ ๐๐ป๐ช๐ญ๐พ๐ช๐ฝ๐ฒ๐ธ๐ท
โโโโโโโโโโEvil Genius
โณ๐๐ฝ๐ฑ๐ฎ๐ป
โโโโโโโโโโFinnegan is a playboy and is quite proud of it. He has no real desire for marriage, even if he has had women made to believe they were about to be the Chosen One. His belief is that no woman is smart enough for him, and men, well... They are all buffoons (especially the homosexual ones).
). I like the idea, btw. Finnegan can call him a buffoon for his socially unacceptable taste in men. Such as: "Do not let your self be such a buffoon, Alexy. You are by far better looking than that. I would never waste such a pretty face and physique on trying to attract such a sticky fingered man. I doubt he ever washes them. And besides, you might start smelling like him, and then I would have stop you from ruining my trade by prohibiting your business in my shop. Would you enjoy that? Hm."