If you have any questions, feel free to ask. I left some things vague, I'm sure.
Description/Biography:"I live and love in God's peculiar light."Brother Walsh is a small man in his thirties, a Franciscan monk based in the somewhat fresh Errew monastery, known for having something of a gentle temper and an appreciation for good company that tends to belie his actual occupation, which is, to be fair, is also a mystery to the other monks as well. He used to lecture at the school every now and then as well as earn a little money for some of his gaffer's work before the weight of his deep contemplation started to properly bear down on him, a protracted event that was somewhat apparent as his discussions of various philosophical themes began to revolve increasingly around the Book of Revelation, then started to veer into the Apocrypha and various authoritative commentaries, and ultimately wound up in highly curious places that seemed to borrow elements of both, but were as far as anyone could tell either improvised or disturbingly well thought out in advance.
Brother Ceannéidigh, a fresh-faced, nationalistic and socially-aware young lad if ever there were any at Errew, was naturally quite worried about his fellow monk, and somewhat afraid that the children would start to get some curious ideas once they figured out a reliable method to set Brother Walsh off, which was becoming a frighteningly realistic prospect as Brother Walsh grew increasingly, er... inspired. So he was quietly asked to perhaps turn to a more contemplative role in the monastery, which he most certainly did. Breakfast, lunch and dinner with his brothers, inquiring after recent events, engaging in reasonable conduct overall, carefully steering away from anything more esoteric than the current state of Ireland ("of all the places making a case for the end times being upon us, Ireland's testimony is uniquely compelling," Brother Walsh has said at the beginning of one of the more unsettling discussions they have had). An occasional trip into Castlebar for "materials" of varying sorts, be they books or silver or broken machines (all of them, however, appear to be grossly expensive to the point where not only does Brother Walsh not actually producing much in the way of a gaffer's income anymore, he also happens to owe most of the other monks money, a perplexing feat to achieve in a monastery).
Not that he is unpleasant to keep around, mind you. He's liked by the younger monks for his keen appreciation for the plights of the Irish people, and by the older monks for his studious, yet agreeable manner. Well, that and the way he doesn't actually cause any real trouble for the most part. Eccentricity is something of a given in someone prone to periods of isolation. Though they are concerned at the rather disproportionate amount of correspondence he sends out and receives - at least three letters a week in, and four out. One for each day, either a letter received or a letter sent. They all seem to be to and from other holy men, of course, including the Bishop of Limerick of all people, so they're not terribly worried. Have to keep tabs on the community, they reason. And it's good that Brother Walsh is so committed to setting himself straight, right?
These mutterings, of course, never reach the ears of Brother Walsh, who is considerably more concerned with his machines of shining glass full of the glory of God- not actually God, Brother Walsh would remind you. Almost certainly not God. A lot like God, perhaps. But as the good Bishop reminds him every week in his meticulously encrypted notes on his stated progress (each featuring at least three distinct lines of savage mockery of his ideas of so-called "theotechnology"), definitely not actual God in any way (other gods, perhaps - best to veer on the side of caution, he says, lest one run afoul of the first commandment). Not that this stops it from working for the most part, as the good Brother Walsh is keen to write back along with good-natured ribbing of his own about the Bishop's idea of ingeniously masking his impractically enormous revelation node with an even larger, more impractical cathedral built over the old chapel.
However, with the state of the country growing dismal and the cost of his more intriguing designs multiplying geometrically, Brother Walsh does find himself in a bit of a pickle. Not working on his things, he reasons, is not an option. At the very least he needs to do something to tell the Bishop and his other friends about. Surely there's some honest work to be had in Castlebar for a man of talent and integrity, right? And if talent and integrity alone are not enough, well, he has...
possibly... made something of interest?
Aspirations:To help the downtrodden and the wretched - eccentric though he may be, Brother Walsh has not forgotten his role as a representative of the Franciscan Order. The land is suffering, and it would gladden his heart to help it in any way.
To find a way to support his inventions while repaying his debts - Brother Walsh embraces poverty as his natural state, and would gladly give all he has to charity were it not for the way much of it would explode in unwary hands.
To help Mary Moore - he has heard much of the girl's troubles, though never spoken to her in person. He would be honored to help her move on with his peculiar mastery of light and glass and faith burning brightly, or at least begin to understand her condition.
To bring peace into places of conflict - quiet times are elusive in the land with constables and thugs rampaging in the streets of Castlebar in equal measure. Hardly any of it spills into Errew thus far, but Brother Walsh can't help but deeply feel for the people of Castlebar who need to live in such turbulent conditions.
Anchors:Brother Walsh's greatest virtue is charity, an honest desire to help, aid, feed and provide for others being the principal driving force of his life, rivaled only by the sinister light of Inspiration. Charity is the most honest worship of the Redeemer that one can give.
The light of Inspiration, however, is also ever-present, and its dread influence is what causes the doubt that has held him back from many a terrible thing, but has also, he feels, kept him away from a not insignificant amount of good - where many act, he may contemplate. Consider in private. Dither endlessly.
Breaking Points:The worst thing Brother Walsh has ever done was to tell Brother Murphy that his traveling hat looked good. Brother Murphy died later that day in a terrible carriage accident without knowing the horrible truth, Brother Walsh having been the last man to speak to him on the road.
The worst thing Brother Walsh can imagine himself doing, however, is sitting atop a silvered throne in the pale moonlight, floating over Castlebar, scouring the sinful land clean with great batteries of holy fire, an artificial knight on a pale horse believing himself to be doing the work of Christ.
The worst thing he can believe of somebody else, is that they would stand above the weak and the poor, and tell them brazen lies so that they may try and manipulate them to their own ends like some modern-day Whore of Babylon.
Brother Walsh's youth was very much shaped when he saw a thug intimidate a gaffer in Dublin by breaking one of his displays of glassware, each piece precious and wonderful, now forever destroyed. He did not know the gaffer personally, though his father knew him by virtue of shared profession, and the things were not his, but that day he could not help but weep until he could weep no more. He has seen violence, injustice and terror in his day, but this incident he still vividly recalls for the mark it left on his very soul.
Other Things:Sheet link, completed aside from Wonders.Character Theme
Author
Topic: Flame and Famine (A Chronicles of Darkness Roleplay set in the Irish Famine) (Read 32707 times)