~User Data~
Name: Ceara Ashe Ó Raghallaigh (Pronounced Key-are-a Ash-eh O’Reily.)
Nicknames: None, really. Just whatever people come up with.
Faction: Anti-Mutant League
Race: Human
Age: 21
Gender: Female
Birth Date: April 18th, 1991
Fame/Infamy Rank and Score: E (for EXCELENT! lol)
Worldly Profession: Soldier
~Appearance~
Height: 5’4”
Weight: 125
Hair: Is actually going to be black
Eyes: Green
Clothing: Her Clothes
~Personal Information~
Personality: She’s pretty lively, a very happy girl, except when it comes to those mutants. When talking about them, or just getting out of a discussion about them, she’s still really aggressive, and if anything happened in the time where she was still aggressive, she tended to stay mad for a while. A few people can calm her down if she gets into one of these moods, but they aren’t very common, and if anyone else attempts to calm her down she just gets more mad. She stays true to her Irish name; Fiery and Valiant. However, when fighting, she prefers range combat over hand-to-hand.
Personal Saying: “You’ve got to do your own growing, no matter how tall your Grandfather was.”
Personal Skill(s): A good shot, good at communication, and good at blending in, becoming one with her environment. With the way that she acts, though, there is sometimes a doubt in her abilities, when really, she just likes to have a good time.
~Background~
State of Origin: West Ireland
City of Origin: Tralee
Family: The O’Raghallaigh Clan has only two survivors, Ceara and Seamus, her brother. He disappeared after the mutants attacked her town, and she doesn’t know that he is alive. He was only small when the attacks happened, about 6, and she was 12. Now she finds her only comfort in Leon, her fiance`.
Bio: When Ceara was seven, her father liked to take her out and teach her a few things about archery and assassins, how effective they are. Her father always told her “It’s bettar if yeh fight in da shadows, yer much safer thar.” And it made her smile to think that she might one day be able to do that against the bad people. This was some of the time that her father spent with just her, his precious little girl. And Ceara would always hold those memories dear.
But one day, she came home from school, for her brother only went to class in the morning, her front door was ajar, and it wasn’t normal for that to happen in this town. Doors were always either closed tight, or wide open. When she walked in, her mother and father were charred in some places, frostbite in others, and in other places yet, there were cuts, bruises. Their eyes had been wide open, in fear, Ceara noticed, and she ran over to her father’s body, looking in his eyes and shaking his shoulder lightly, trying to rouse him. It, of course, hadn’t worked.
It was then she thought of her brother. She ran through the house, yelling his name, but he was nowhere to be found.
The MacGrady’s down the lane took Ceara O’Raghallaigh in, caring for her, making sure she wasn’t going to kill herself. They got her into therapy, to work through her issues, but it hadn’t ever had a real effect. She didn’t eat much, didn’t sleep well, and only talked in her nightmares, and that was usually screaming. It was the only way they knew that she still even had a voice.
Then, the recruiters came to town. Now, Ceara was fifteen. They were coming to get the survivors of mutant attacks to join them against the mutants and their quest landed them on the MacGrady’s front porch. Ceara had been training her archery skills, and was now a deadly shot, and the Anti-Mutant League wanted to utilize that. They trained her to use a gun instead of a bow, and taught her how to shoot through a scope, which, with her accuracy with only her eye, made only a difference in distances greater than one hundred yards.
It hadn’t done anything to make her speak, though. Nothing around her had any form of affect on her speech. No amount of abuse, no amount of coaxing, no smiles, no glares, no counseling, no amount of threats, nothing could make her speak. The nightmares, however, had stopped making her scream. Finally, after three or four months, someone thought that it might have been the same scenery of Ireland that was keeping Ceara from moving on, but it hadn’t. At least, not at first.
She’d been in Germany for three months, or was it five, and a new group of transfers came. Ceara liked it here in Germany. No one tried to make her talk. This new group, though, contained one boy, and how was Ceara to know that he would be the key to her voice?
They’d been in the barracks for a while, and he had made the first move, introducing himself to her. People in the barracks had explained that for some reason, unknown to them, she wouldn’t talk. For some reason, though, Ceara felt that she could trust him, and, for the first time in nearly five years, opened her mouth to speak. She introduced herself to him, and eventually grew to like him.
By some stroke of luck, or perhaps there was more to it, whenever they were transferred, they were transferred together to the same places, and eventually they became an item. Leon was a great leader, and Ceara thought that this was the quality she liked most of him.
Together, Leon and Ceara worked as a team, planning to rise through the ranks, and as Ceara stuck around Leon, her true personality slowly started to break through, and in the five years that she had known him she had gone from completely silent, to only talking to him, to actually talking to him in the mess hall, to talking with others. It was mostly due to Leon that she even thought she could get revenge on the mutants that killed her family, and very well may have killed her brother too. She owed him everything.
~Inventory~
Weapons:
A sniper rifle, which fires Sanctimonia bullets (if accepted), and a bow and arrows.
Equipment:
A skin-tight, black body suit.
