Wormwood

Description:
Bio:

Name: Thirneir Irin’drayr, Race: Elven, Age:29, Height: 5’12", Eye Color: Green, Hair Color: Dirty blonde with a glowing neon green streak on the left side of the top of his head,
Hometown: Portland(Cara’Sir)
Next of kin: Wife; Vana’salar Irin’drayr(deceased), Son; Eldrin Irin’drayr(deceased), Occupation(former/current): Former occupation: Astral Consultant & Invesitigator for Telestrian Corporation’s Biotechnology Division / Current occupation: Unknown.

As a child, Thirneir was a rebellious, but kindhearted elf with a fascination with all things Occult. To his surprise (and joy) he came into his powers at 13 when he awakened. Nothing pleased him more, he had already studied a plethora of magical volumes and formulae. And while he couldn’t fully understand them at such a young age, he became familiar with the world of magic. By the time he was 14 he was constantly playing devious(yet ultimately harmless) pranks on his parents, friends, and anyone else that caught his eye. When he wasn’t playing pranks, he was healing injured animals that he came across. Occasionally he would come across the odd person with minor ailments, and throw some positive energy into them just before levitating their credsticks into his pocket. He wouldn’t take it all, just enough to supply his magical needs. when he was 17 he fell into a pack of would be Shadowrunners. Doing small smash n grab, and Intel retrieval jobs.

At the age of 22 he met the love of his life; Vana’salar. By 24 they were married and had a child on the way. But lifting credsticks, and working the odd job wouldn’t support a family, and though he held no love for anything Corporate, he landed a job in Telestrian Corporation’s Biotechnology Division as an “Astral Consultant and Investigator”. He would place protective wards on important research and development wings, and sweep the building for any hostile or unwanted magickal devices or activity. It wasn’t a glorious job, or something he was proud of, but he had a family to feed.

After a few years he was entrusted with protecting the wing of highly classified project. While laying his wards and scanning for magical intrusions, he overheard a heated conversation between two Elven Biotech scientists; “We can’t do this, it can’t continue! If this fell into the wrong hands, and I believe it already has, this could become an abominously disastrous substance!” Quietly shouted the younger Elf. “Keep it down damnit!” snapped the older Elf “not only could talk like that get you fired, it could get you KILLED. The hierarchy wants this synthesized and tested by next week, if we don’t have more promising results by then, it won’t just be our jobs on the line”. “Yes but at what cost!?” Snapped the younger Elf, obviously stressed nearly to the point of a breakdown, “if we finish this, and it works as expected, we’ll be damning our very souls, I just don’t know if I can see this finished.” The older Elf then noticed Thirneir at the far end of the room, and hurried the younger one into another room. Worried about what it might be, but knowing there wasn’t much he could do, Thirneir continued his work.

A few days later the younger Elf approached Thirneir as he was leaving in a stairwell. He was terrified, he told him he had to confide in someone, had to do something about it. He explained the bare bone details in hurried whispers: They were creating a bioweapon. The reason was unknown, but only Elves were immune. And even in the right hands this substance had disastrous potential. The young Elf begged for help. Offering a small fortune of Nuyen in return. Appalled at the project, Thirneir told him he still had some Shadowrunner contacts, and that he’d do what he could. He knew it was dangerous, but it was gnawing at him. He set up a meet with his old contacts, and passed along along schematics of the building, knowledge of defenses and surveillance equipment, and the few details of the project he knew.

Three nights later, kept awake by the fear and anticipation Thirneir headed out for a walk to calm his mind. The night air always put him at ease. He passed an electronics store with Trideo sets in the windows displaying a popular news channel in the area which caught his eye. His jaw dropped in abject horror. The headline read “Four assailants gunned down while breaking into Telestrian Corp’s Biotech Division”. Something had gone horribly wrong, he had given them all the knowledge necessary to get in and out. He stood staring at the Trid screen until a large explosion rang out just a few blocks away. He started sprinting towards it, praying, but ultimately knowing what it was. He skidded to a stop on his heels as he saw a burning pile of metal and concrete. It was his house. His wife and child had been sound asleep inside, and it was meant for him. Falling to his knees, unable to move or even think, he let out a howl of total, unmitigated, misery.

In the years since he’s detested anything Corporate. Working to bring them down from anything to rallying the locals in protest to bombing secure R&D wings of any corporation that caught his eye. He preferred the latter. While he did his best to make sure no true innocents died in his bombings, anyone with enough guilt died screaming in the vengeful blazes. In time the “law” caught up with him, and was chased out of Portland, and eventually Tir Tairngire entirelly. Now he’s fallen in with a new group of Shadowrunners. Constantly trying to avenge the death of his family and friends, and atone by helping anyone he can.

Wormwood

Running the shadows rhudien5643