Name: Eileen Kelley
Aliases: Nothing she likes, and quite a few that she loathes.
Build: Very short and very curvy, with wider hips.
Origin: Northernlands. She's lived on the outskirts of Mossflower since she was a young girl, though.
Languages: Gaelic and heavily accented Woodlander.
Occupation: Farmer's Daughter and former Militia member.
Eyes: Light blue
Hair: Wild, curly, and red, she attempts daily to keep it pinned neatly back. The longest it's actually stayed up is three hours.
Scars: A few faded ones from childhood, including one from where she broke her leg trying to get away from a snake.
**Fur/Markings:**Soft, paler than normal brown.
Attire: Simple and practical to the utmost, she wears a white blouse and a kilt, like the rest of her brothers. Worn so neat, you could almost call it prim. Almost. She takes great care of the garments, keeping them well-cleaned and repaired.
Accessories: Claddagh ring, worn on a thin chain around her neck. Small pack that holds all her necessaries.
WOC: There's a fencing dagger in the belt of her kilt, one that's she's very skilled with. If she gets separated from it, though, she's good with fists, rocks, or anything else she can get her pretty little paws on.
Appearance: A very lovely lass, with her short, curvy stature, slightly upturned nose, and wide blue eyes. Her curly hair is a deep, eye-catching red, often half-escaped from her attempts to keep it out of her face.
Personality: Practical, loyal, hard working, and more often than not, serious and quiet. Has a temper and little qualms against using it, especially if you call her something unfavorable. Depending on how her day's going and where she happens to be, her reaction to something that ticks her off ranges from a deeply sarcastic smile to any range of insults and swear-words. But under the practicality and fiery temper she is a closet romantic, and is kind of hoping to actually settle down sooner or later. She often slips into Gaelic, and has a habit of singing under her breath when working.
Special skills: Great aim with an empty pail, and unafraid to get her hands dirty if need be.
Weaknesses: Over works herself, sometimes to the point of collapse, and she can have terrible bouts of homesickness.
Fears: Bees, snakes, and never seeing home again.
Likes: Warm nights, when her brother behaves, and strawberries.
Dislikes: Lads who think that she's just some simpering maid, having to break up fights her brother starts.
History: Elieen's family emigrated south when she ten seasons, going from a farm in The Northlands to a farm in Outer Mossflower after her grandfather died. She's worked hard every day of her life, usually from sun up to sundown. She's the eldest of six children, the only girl among them, and as such an independent and responsible young lady. She never got as much schooling as Fergus did, but when she was sixteen joined with the local Militia, and served four seasons of night watch and weapons drills, sparring with seasoned warriors and running the unsavory types off their little corner of the land. And also fighting with the local boys, ignoring their advances, and trying to ignore her mother's lamentations of never getting grandbabes out of her.
When her family got the letter from Southsward, she agreed readily to travel down there with Fergus, to keep the farm. The journey hasn't gone as smooth as possible, though, and they keep getting hung up in different places.
"I'm sorry, I have work tae do."
"I don't care if yer drunk or not, I will knock ye on yer bum, ye great puddenhead."
Name: Fergus Ian Kelley
Aliases: Twerp, Idiot, and other such things bestowed upon him by his older sister
Build: Tall and rangy
Origin: The Northlands, though his family has lived on the northern border of Mossflower since he was nought but a little thing.
Languages: Woodlander, Gaelic.
Occupation: Farmer's son, amature inventor, adventurer, and Trouble maker. Oh, he's gotten schooling, too. But he doesn't talk about that much.
Eyes: Dark blue
Scars: none too prominent
Fur/Markings: Nut brown, short, and kinda scrufty
Attire: White shirt and a kilt in his clan's tartan.
Accessories: A small leather pack, containing a number of tools, a coil of rope, goodness knows what else.
WOC: His mouth, his left cross, and his highly-tuned skill of knowing when to run like hell.
Appearance: Fergus is, by all marks a very handsome–almost blandly so-- young lad, with his dark Notherner coloring and charming grin.
Personality: Charming and trouble some, Fergus will piss you off one moment and have you smiling the next. He's energetic and a bit of a fidgeter, as well as being somewhat easy to distract. He's also one for pretending that certain problems don't exist when it suits him, and being a bit cowardly. Although he prefers to call it 'self-preservation'. He's not one to brood, but when he does, it's usually alone with a pipe, and ale if there's any about. Loyal to his family and close friends, especially his older sister.
Special skills: Strong and fast. Applying his charm to get out of trouble.
Weaknesses: Generally shameless. A pretty face or a good fight. A little bit of a coward, and decidedly mouthy.
Fears: His family shamed of him, for anything. Any number of angry fathers coming after him on the behalf of their daughters…
Likes: His Mum's cooking. Pestering his sister.
Dislikes: Eileen pestering back. His Mum nagging about him needing to get settled and start having children.
History: Fergus's family moved from the chilly Northerns to Outer Mossflower when he was eight. He's the second eldest of six children, the oldest boy of the family, and has had a pretty decent life so far, going to school and working the family fields, pestering his older sister mercilessly, and generally running a bit wild with his friends in the village and neighboring farms.
Last season, his father got a letter from a realative, one that had long ago moved to the Southsward. He was tiring and too old to keep up his farm, but wasn't willing to let it go to creatures that weren't of the Clan Kelley. So Conary sent his two oldest children, Eileen and Fergus, to help care for the farm and eventually take it over. The trek down there is harder than he thought, though, and he and Eileen keep getting caught up either, because of her temper or his mouth.
Quotes: "Hello, me pretty lass…"
"Eh, go lust after me sister, ye tall puddenhead..."